The Romancer Opalbane
by pooktales
Summary: Third in the Romancer Series: Alessandre is a notorious kaldorei assassin with a freakish split personality. Opalbane is the alcoholic, excultist, shadowpriestess he must protect. This is what happens when crazy people fall in love...
1. A girl can dream, can't she?

**The Romancer Opalbane**

(Disclaimer: This story is based upon a game called World of Warcraft. Therefore, I do not claim any rights to their story, or game.)

Author's note: This is the third story in The Romancer Series. If you're just tuning in, don't worry because my goal is to write each story so that it stands on its own two feet. You don't have to read the prequels or sequels to know what is going on… that is, unless you want to. Oh, and thanks to all who kept hanging in there while I struggled with this first episode.

**Episode One: A woman can dream, can't she?**

_Dear Willypearl,_

_I trust your Winter's Veil went well? After sending me that lovely fur hat as a holiday gift, you probably spent a great deal of time with your new family, hugging, and… cuddling, and remembering old times… is that what families do? I certainly wouldn't know. I'm sure Lady Barillabine Pontier went out of her way to make you, her new daughter in law, feel at home. And your fiancée Knight Elec Pontier no doubt had some kind of special surprise planned for you, or perhaps, both he and his mother had something nice planned. Or… if I truly trust my instincts about you Willy, both you and Elec probably thought of something delightful to share with his family. Willy, I know you doubt your place in their prestigious family because of your humble beginnings in Westfall, but I think the Pontiers are paladins who could really benefit from having someone as kindhearted and noble as you among their ranks._

…_Oh, and before I forget, I heard talk that there are a few lingerie stores opening all around Stormwind, each with the same name: Willypearl's Secret? Those don't have anything to do with you do they? Well, more than likely they don't, eventhough you are an Artisan tailor. I don't get out very much, so it's possible that someone who knows about our scandal with the Archmage in the courts of Stormwind was just teasing me. That makes the most sense… unless there's something you're not telling me about your holiday?_

_Well, I'm sure you'll explain it in your next letter. Actually, I'm writing to tell you about my Winter's Veil. Something…let's call it unprecedented, or radical, or really scandalous is the best word…happened between me and someone else during the holiday. And, this someone else was a man—a very attractive, and mysterious Kaldorei man—who knocked on my door in the dead of night. Would you believe me if I told you that, knowing that this was a male stranger with a hypnotic, low, pleading voice—the guttural mew of a nightsaber in heat--I let him enter my room? Only the goddess Elune knows how he broke into the Priestess' dorms, or where the guards were at the time. And, up until this very moment, only I know what happened between us that night. This man, Alessandre, doesn't even know… but Willypearl, you are my best friend and I know that I can trust you with a shadowpriestess' dark little secret? For once in my life, I broke the rules. I risked everything in a hazy moment of new lust and feverish desperation. I did something that no priestess of Elune—past or present—should ever do with a man who is not welcome to her private bedchamber. And what is worse, I don't think that I'm ashamed of myself at all. I think I liked it. Oh, my dearest friend, I hope you can forgive me!_

_I think I did it because I found Alessandre irresistible in that moment, and I kept thinking to myself, 'Opalbane, you are never going to have a man like this in your life. Take advantage while you can.' Even now, I know that you, Willypearl, are reading this and saying aloud to yourself, 'No, Opal, honey, that's not true. You are a nice girl, and any man would be lucky to have you.' Well, 'honey', just what man in his right mind is ever going to be interested in an ex-convict, ex-cultists, alcoholic shadowpriestess like me? What man is going to want to marry into a family like mine, my parents singled out and slaughtered by demons in Felwood, with an overbearing Priestess of Elune as a foster mother, and a boneheaded pervert warrior for a brother? And, now I'm here by myself in Stormwind, recovering from my flight from the law, and my stint as a Twilight's Hammer Cultist in Silithus, and not one of these people is nearby to care for me. I am a woman with not one person on my side… oh, except for you Willy. But, in all honesty, I didn't trust you either until a little while ago when the Stormwind officials got me back into their custody. I can never thank you enough for helping my brother Onyxbane bring me to justice, and effectively, clear my name. But, that's all in the past, isn't it? My point is, this Alessandre is someone who has his pick of all the women in Azeroth. There was no reason for him to choose me as a bedmate on the night of Winter's Veil. But, I think it must have been the magic of Greatfather Winter himself that brought him to me at that critical moment. You see, for all I had been through in my life, I was ready to throw all that salvation away, and run back to Silithus, into the arms of my master the old god Zar'teaus. But, because Alessandre climbed into my bed, I didn't. And, because I gave in, I don't see how I could ever leave Stormwind and return to my hellish life._

_And now, you're panicking, aren't you? You think I'm pregnant or something, or that he's asked me to run away with him. Well, I can settle your fears by revealing two important things about my Alessandre. First, Alessandre (and that's not a Kaldorei name, and clearly some alias he's picked for himself) was very drunk the night he came into my room. Very drunk and… something else. You're engaged to be married, so I imagine you know what kind of hunger I'm referring to. Don't blush, now, Willy. I may be a virgin, but I'm not so clueless about these kinds of things. Secondly, Alessandre doesn't like women, and would never, ever ask me or anyone else to 'run away with him.' No, wait, considering the fashionable tendencies of Night Elf men, I'd better explain that a little better. Alessandre hates women, not because he prefers men, but because he… well he honestly hates us. Long ago, someone he cared about betrayed him—in the most horrible way—and he's never recovered. Obviously, this person was a woman. Ever since, he's been able to love as aggressively as any man, but only in the physical way. He told me that he loathes himself for still needing women, after all these years (and I think he's almost twenty years older than me, but you know that with us Night Elves, it's not the same kind of age difference, since we only recently became mortal). Maybe I'm being too hopeful, but… I think that Alessandre feels so strongly against us women because he cared so deeply for the one that betrayed him and… there is some possibility in that, isn't there? He must have some capacity for love… if not, then he would be a monster._

_Now, Willypearl, you are a very good friend, and I'm sure that you're wringing your hands about this right now. You're worried that as inexperienced as I am—having no experience with a man at all—that I will attempt to win over this Alessandre and fail. Fall right on my face, like I've done with everything in the rest of my pathetic existence. I bet you're also going to write a long letter in response inquiring about this man's past, and his whereabouts, or why I think it is reasonable to keep seeing him after the passionate night we had? Perhaps you think that nothing more can come of it… or more realistically, that someone who is addicted to fel energies and alcohol, and thus bedridden, cannot possibly hope to carry on a relationship with such a capable and dashing, independent man. Well, that's only the best part of my little story. It's so nice that we've come to it at last._

_Alessandre is my bodyguard. Of course, I didn't believe him at first. I wisely thought it was some excuse to get into my room and into my bed, but I was very wrong. My foster mother, Priestess Feathershine, and her "old friend" Master Rogue Shadowstep collaborated some time ago on a plan to find me a suitable bodyguard. With Feathershine confined to Darnassus because of the fiasco with the Archmage and the courts of Stormwind, and my brother Onyxbane self-exiled from human lands for the sake of his rogue girlfriend Wisthera—who somehow managed to con both of us, and countless other members of the Alliance and get away with it—I was all alone here in Stormwind. With his tongue considerably loosened by rum, Alessandre confessed to me that Master Rogue Shadowstep and Feathershine hired him to watch over me secretly as I recovered with the help of Stormwind's elect group of shadowpriests. I trust the shadowpriests here with my life, but it seems that Feathershine and Shadowstep entrusted my life to a cunning rogue. I'd not have believed Alessandre at all, except that he admitted neither Feathershine nor Shadowstep wanted me to know they were behind it. According to Alessandre, both thought I was too clever or too arrogant to accept help from either of them, which of course… is exactly right about me._

_And so that left me with a fully clothed male Night Elf dozing softly alongside me on the Eve of Winter's Veil. But, before Alessandre slipped into a drunken slumber, he proved to me that he did not work for the Twilight Cultists. Now, he told me this in the strictest confidence, so please, under pain of death, do not tell anyone! To gain my trust, Alessandre removed his pants and showed me how a Twilight Cultist used a shadowbolt to rip open the inside of his leg. At the time, he was a part of the Cenarion Circle stationed in Silithus and they were able to heal him. It is a miracle that he even survived, and can still walk, though the dark magic left a horrible scar that runs from the edge of his heel all the way up to his inner thigh. This was two decades before I was even born, and recruited by the cultists in Silithus, mind you. Again, you have a fiancée, so you can imagine how dangerous that kind of burning power is to a man, in that area. Fortunately for Alessandre, the cultist who attacked him did not succeed in finishing her work. Unlucky for me, and every other woman Alessandre has ever been compelled to spend the night with, the woman who attacked him was once the love of his life. And that, my friend, is why the man wears his heart on his sleeve. It's a beautiful black silken sleeve that I may never get my hands on, but I'd like to try. Maybe that is why, I confess to you now, that when Alessandre got dressed again, he left off kissing me and allowed himself to fall asleep. I think it was too painful a memory for him to go further. Oh, and did I mention that Alessandre said he knew Wisthera? If he is anything like our con artist rogue friend, Alessandre will be defensive about his complicated past. Honestly, I don't think that he will ever trust me enough to get so close again._

_And… perhaps that is also why… having already seen so much of him, I… sort of, used my powers to put out the manadrain candles (Please don't say anything! Priest Benactus doesn't know I'm able to hobble his attempts at draining my diseased mana) and decided to get another eyeful. I… mind controlled him Willy. I could feel the fog in his mind, so I took advantage of the fact that he was hopelessly drunk and wouldn't remember… I used my powers to force him to take his clothes off again, and lie there beside me happily, as if… as if we were together. And Willy, I have to say that when I looked into his eyes and made him say all the things I wanted to hear… Oh, I just have to believe that I can fix this man! You are engaged… you must know how I feel, don't you? I feel like in that moment, I got a glimpse of the greatest love, the only true love I've ever felt in my whole life. Maybe Priestess Feathershine mothered me, and maybe my brother retrieved me from Silithus. Maybe you wrote me countless letters over the years, convincing me that you were my friend regardless of the dark forces that tempted me, and maybe Wisthera chose to betray Master Rogue Shadowstep and keep me safe from his agents in Silithus. But Willypearl, Alessandre saved my life. He came to me in the dead of winter, the dead cold winter of his life, and decided to stay up with me, because he knew that Priest Benactus was setting me up… Priest Benactus, is a cultist, you know. I always knew it, but I guess I didn't see any harm in it because I could always go back to Silithus if I asked him to help me. But, Alessandre had been keeping an eye on me and saw the real danger in that. He chose to be a hero for once in his life, which must have been hard for him after his betrayal. On the very night that I should have been terrified of the demons in my heart, lonely, and on the brink of self-destruction—all ideas that Priest Benactus planted in my head before leaving me alone for the night with that dreadful bottle of rum—Alessandre came and drank with me, laughed with me, and shared his own dark secrets with me, so that I could finally feel safe._

_Willypearl, my dearest friend, I have convinced myself that I can return the favor to Alessandre. The only problem is, and this is incredibly difficult to write because I've never had to ask anyone for help with any of my studies my entire life…I have no idea how to attract a man. I know that men find me beautiful because I've spurned a lot of attention over the years, and Alessandre was tempted to kiss me last night, afterall, wasn't he? But how do I get him to go even further… how do I get him to truly say those things to me that I made him say with my Mind Control spell? If you would help me do this, and I could heal his heart before the danger in Stormwind passes and his time with me is over, I'd be eternally grateful._

_Oh, and one more thing… I think he is waking up right now, so I'll probably end up sneaking this letter out a few days later than I intended. Alessandre would never trust me if he caught me telling someone about his past, so please, no matter what, keep all that I've said to yourself! I'm sure that you can see why I felt I had to write it. I needed to confess to someone that I'd taken advantage of a man's body… that I liked it, and… that I need help making it happen for real. Finally, I need someone to forgive me for doing as I pleased._

_I need someone to forgive me for dreaming, Willypearl. I hope that person will be you._

_With all my heart, your dearest friend,_

_Shadowpriestess Opalbane, The Cathedral of Light in Stormwind._


	2. Rogues always put bunny ears on people

**The Romancer Opalbane**

Episode Two: Rogues always put bunny ears on people

"So what happens now?" Opalbane asked.

She carefully tucked the folded letter to Willypearl behind her back, under the pillow. Alessandre, like all Night Elf men, was an excellent balance of lean build and sinewy musculature, which caused them to look in perfect proportion from all angles. Opalbane thought that Alessandre was especially attractive. Maybe it was that she knew he was a rogue, and had a mysterious aura about him. Or, perhaps his dual role as deceiver and bodyguard was an intoxicating mix, because it should be impossible for a man to be so elusive, yet everpresent, so safe but yet so deadly.

Alessandre glanced at Opalbane without turning his face very much or really looking over his shoulder. His full mane of midnight blue hair hid his face at that angle, and it was not clear if he smiled or scowled at her. The man stood in broad daylight, but still he'd cloaked himself somehow.

"Well, Priest Benactus is not to be trusted, that's for sure." Alesandre said as he slipped his leather gloves on. For him everything was black. Black ontop of black, and not a seam out of place. "But I don't dare do anything to him yet. He knows who else is after you, and how to get to him. When he came in this morning, I shadowmelded just in time."

"About that, I—"

"Don't worry about it." Alessandre expertly cut Opalbane off, making it impossible to voice unnecessary fears. "He never saw me. But I saw him. He trusts you, Opalbane. When you told him that you changed your mind, and did not want to go back to the cultists in Silithus, he was content with that. He thinks that he can just convince you later on. He has no idea that you're going to betray him, which is good."

"I am? How could I do that to him?" Opalbane asked.

"You are going to get well, aren't you? Or do you plan to lie in that bed, drained of your mana for all eternity? Night Elves don't have such long lives anymore, you know."

Opalbane frowned. "Priest Benactus is just doing what he thinks is right. He's part of the cult you see. It's hard to abandon that kind of mentality. If I'm with the old god Zar'teaus, then I'm truly safe, and—"

"Now that's enough." Alessandre spun around smartly on his heels and faced her. There was something familiar about that. When was the last time she'd seen Night Elves marching and turning corners expertly like that… in Silithus?

"You chose not to go back to Silithus, right? I had a hell of a time convincing you, but you _are_ going to stay here, aren't you?"

Opalbane bit her lower lip nervously. Then she nodded.

"Good. The old god Zar'teaus is not some ex-lover of yours. He is a disgusting, disembodied waste of life who needs a following to keep from completely wasting away. He and the cultists thought that you could be his high priestess, and act as an intercessor to future worshippers, the way High Priestess Tyrande is with Elune. But that is a disgusting perversion of the true thing… are you following me, Priestess?"

"You can call me Opal." The pale shadowpriestess offered politely, which is a rare thing for the dark and sultry Opalbane to do.

Alessandre ignored it. "Yes or no?" he insisted.

Opalbane said she understood. "But… I wasn't talking about Benactus just now. What about us?"

Alessandre turned back around and began to fasten his long mithril rapier and dagger to his belt. "I don't know what you mean."

"Last night… I'm sorry about what I did to you."

"Why apologize? You thought that I wouldn't remember, and you're only sorry that you got caught. When you dozed off last night, you left me completely undressed this morning. And, not to mention the fact that the candles had been put out. I'm just lucky that Benactus didn't see a large naked male elf the second time he snatched your door open."

Opalbane stifled a laugh, though Alessandre didn't seem to think Priest Benactus' walking in on them was very funny. "I couldn't help myself! I… Look, that's not what I mean… okay fine. You're right. I'm not sorry, not one bit. I'm glad that I undressed you."

"You know, most women are content to do it with their _eyes_." With that Alessandre tossed his head so that a long blue lock of hair fell free of his shoulder and put his hand on the door.

"Wait! Will I even see you again? You've been my bodyguard for weeks now, and I only just figured it out, because you chose to spend Winter's Veil with me. Are you just going to disappear back into the shadows again? What if I need your help?"

"You won't. My job is to kill whatever it is that's bothering you before it gets to your doorstep."

"Wait, you're not going to murder Priest Benactus—"

Alessandre stopped what he was doing and turned around slowly. "No."

But Opalbane's heart raced. She knew it was a lie.

"He has to live." Alessandre started to explain, a wry smile on his face. He seemed to enjoy explaining his secret plans. Opalbane heard the implied _for now_, eventhough the rogue hadn't said it. "In fact, I want to follow him and find out whom he knows from Silithus. Then I can find the others…" he trailed off. "I think I will make it clear just who I am soon. Eventually, Benactus will need to know that there is a threat working against his threat on your life. Something will have to make him hesitate before he goes too far."

"Aren't you afraid that he will panic and take it out on me?"

Alessandre avoided the question. "He won't."

"And how can you be sure… or do you even care?"

Alessandre stared at Opalbane a long time and said nothing.

"Alessandre… maybe you won't believe me, but _I_ care about what happens to _you_. I can't forget what you did for me last night. We were so different only a few hours ago. We were laughing together, drinking and sharing secrets… you even kissed me."

Opalbane waited to see how Alessandre would respond. He seemed to blink, but just barely. Then, his jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything.

Opalbane sighed. "What in the world happened to the man who barged into my room last night, and tried to make love to me but fell asleep?"

"It's called sex, and there's a difference between the two." Alessandre answered rather coldly.

This stung Opalbane deeply, but she steeled herself against it. If Alessandre hadn't re-lit the many tiny blue manaburn candles, perhaps her shadowform might have flared up.

"You told me that Greatfather Winter was talking in your head, and I believed you. In fact, you told me a lot of things… and you know what, I don't believe that you're just a rogue now. I think the difference between then and now is that you are all the way over there, near the door," Opalbane gestured at the distance between them to make her point. It was a small room, but the manaburn candles formed a ring around Opalbane and the bed. Only the doorway was cleared. "And that the demonic rune drawn under my bed collects all the fel energy being drained from my body. Tell me, does a druid still have mana when he's in his feral forms? Or does it just disappear, as if on a whim?"

"That was twenty years ago!" Alessandre almost shouted back. Opalbane smiled. She'd hit a nerve with him, and he knew it.

"Oh, I took your confession alright. You didn't want me to delve into your past last night, so you told me what you thought you had to, and then tried to kiss me and distract me when I insisted that you were hiding something. You know… in the temple of Elune, my foster mother Priestess Feathershine takes confessions from penitents all the time. She looks right into their brains using a Mind Vision, and forces them to confront their ugly secrets. It's frightening at first, reliving those nightmares, but the release is also very good for you."

Alessandre turned from the door, but Opalbane was careful to note that he did not dare stray far from it, or near to the manaburn candles. "How… how in all of Azeroth is someone as striking as you so darkhearted? The way you sit there, you should look sickly to me, I should be repelled by you, but…" Alessandre made balls of his fists. "You are radiant. You defy me with everything you have, and you shouldn't have anything at all left in your system to fight anyone with. You're fighting me, a man who is supposed to be your bodyguard… why?"

Opalbane narrowed her glowing white eyes at Alessandre. The dark tattoos that formed shades of feral markings across her pale face made her look even more intent on her victim.

"Because, you like it."

Alessandre swayed helplessly on his feet.

"Come here, Alessandre," Opalbane nearly whispered. "Come sit by my side. Tell me what is plaguing your heart, why you truly hate people, and I'll drink in that nightmare, relieve you of it. You want to be honest with me, don't you?"

"Yes," Alessandre barely breathed. Opalbane felt his superior gaze melt. Then it was impossible to ignore the feel of his hungry eyes on her.

Then, he broke out of it. "You're controlling my mind again." He frowned.

Opalbane giggled, but then lurched forward and held her head in her hands. "Oww."

"But how? The manaburn candles are functioning again… you shouldn't be able to override them like that. How do you even have any mana left?"

"Shadowpriests have lots of mana. I'm an avid student of the shadow, so I made sure to have far more than most. But, it still makes me feel sick when I use my mana for these mere parlor tricks."

"Well, your little game almost landed me across the room and ontop of you again." Alessandre inhaled a deep frustrating breath. Opalbane felt lightheaded watching him breathe like that.

Opalbane smiled. "If only that was the only thing I needed from you."

Alessandre sighed. "It would compromise my mission. We can't do that." Then he stealthed and prepared to leave.

"Alessandre please! Just do one thing for me, before you leave? Please."

He didn't say anything in response, but inclined his head as he faded out of view.

"Did you really mean what you said last night… that you think 'I'm hot'?"

Alessandre laughed then. It was a surprisingly gentle chuckle coming from such an intense man. "You were the one wearing a flimsy linen nightgown soaked in sweat, not me. Take a guess."

Opalbane blushed. "When I drink rum, I just warm right up—"

Alessandre shook his head at her. "No excuses. I reacted to you honestly… and you know that it wasn't just the alcohol."

Then, he opened the door and crept out. The many women standing around giggling in the hallway didn't even noticed the gorgeous stealthed stranger in their midst.

"Be careful!" Opalbane called to him. She hadn't been able to hold it back.

"Opal!" one of the young priestesses out in the hallway came and stood in her open doorway. "How did your door come open? And who are you talking to?"

Daring as ever, Alessandre stood upright behind the woman. He was a whole head taller than the human priestess, and he smiled wickedly as if he was up to something. No one in the hallway could see the handsome stranger.

Opalbane bit her lower lip and shyly turned her head away from Alessandre's powerful gaze.

"No one… sometimes, I hear Zar'teaus," she lied.

That hushed the makeshift crowd of onlookers into disturbed silence. "Have a good morning then," the young human priestess said awkwardly and shut Opalbane's door again. Then she bolted it from the outside.

Just before the door closed though, Opalbane thought she saw something funny. Alessandre put two invisible fingers above the woman's head, which made her look like a rabbit.

Alone in her room, Opalbane laughed again, like she had the night before with Alessandre. It still felt like the first time in ages.

Author's note:

Just confirming that the original Episode One (the one with two letters that Al sent to Shadowstep and Feathershine) was permanently deleted. It's not that I'm changing anything that happens in the story, I just felt that opening wasn't working anymore. Don't worry, you'll get the same background information on Alessandre and his mission in other ways as we go along, so it will still make sense.


	3. Willy and Wisthera, plotting in a tree

**The Romancer Opalbane**

Episode Three: Willy and Wisthera plotting in a tree…

The next day, Opalbane did not hear from Alessandre at all. But she did receive a response to her letter. However, it was from the wrong person entirely:

_Dear Opalbane,_

_This is in response to your letter to Willypearl. Now, before you plan how to flay my pretty little brain into a thousand pieces from across The Great Sea, I'm warning you that I didn't swipe your letter. Willypearl, whom you call your friend, read your letter and then asked me about it. I'm responding to you directly, instead of letting Willypearl inevitably color my comments because she's still jealous that I stole her boyfriend… err I mean, Onyxbane your brother._

_Oh, and by the way, Onyx says hi! He's looking over my shoulder as I write this. Okay, now he's being distracted by something across the room. Uh oh, it's a pretty shiny distraction, he might not be back for while… yep it's The Reaper. I think that Onyx is going to sharpen it, or dance in the moonlight with it or something. Well, whatever he does with that Arcanite Reaper, I really don't know. I don't want to know._

_Okay, about Alessandre. Willypearl sent this horrible letter accusing me of having something to do with his appointment as your bodyguard. Isn't that ridiculous! Just because we both happen to be rogues, and we are both in the same guild under Master Rogue Shadowstep, she thinks that I'm trying to get revenge on you in some roundabout way because of… wait lemme check her letter and see what nonsense she believes._

_Okay, I'm back. Willypearl thinks that I'm a bitter person in general, and that's why I'm always conning people out of their money, or clothes, or… boyfriends. Well, if you ask me she's the manwrecker! Onyx was mine before she even showed up… or wait… she was with him in Westfall… oh nevermind! This is turning into some silly gossipy letter, and that is not the point. I bet your skin is burning with your black shadowform as we speak, because you believe your friend Willypearl, and I haven't even said my piece yet. Well, okay, here it goes:_

_I hate Alessandre. And there's lots of good reasons why. Some of them… okay, all of them aren't really reasons that I want my boyfriend's sister to know, or anyone breathing to know for that matter, but I think I'd better catch you up on how this whole seduction thing works, so that you don't make the same mistake I did:_

_First,_

_Al is going to make you feel like you are the most special person in the world. Don't believe it. Just like every other guy—even Onyxbane—he's an arrogant bastard who makes bad jokes and gets distracted by shiny objects. You're going to stare at that cute dimple in his chin, and his taught buttocks, and find yourself hypnotized by his voice and breathless about the way that he breathes… whoa, getting off topic, aren't I… and find yourself falling in love with him. Well don't, because he is not capable of loving anyone!_

_Second,_

_Al is going to act all humble and all when you ask him about the rumors going around the Cenarion Enclave that he's the greatest Kaldorei lover that ever lived. You're going to confront him about the time he pleased this woman on a boat from Menethil Harbor to Darkshore when they were alone for the entire trip, or the time that Myrielle, Master Rogue Shadowstep's second in command, was almost seduced into quitting her job because of one look he gave her, or more than likely, you know about that foursome he had with these four rogues in Thelsamar? Ya, well let me tell you… okay he is that great in bed, because those four women were my best girlfriends, and they would not let me forget that I missed out on that wild night! Ugh, I'm so glad that Onyxbane is too busy with The Reaper to see how I'm still so jealous about that. Don't let yourself get tempted by a man with such excellent equipment. His reputation precedes him yes, but… well, he rejected me, so what does that say about his morals? He's not a nice guy._

_Okay and Third,_

_Al is going to come off like this dangerous, broken-hearted guy without a friend in the world. Don't fall for it. He is my greatest enemy at the moment, so I know best that this isn't true. This man is actually very wealthy and very well-connected. He has friends in high places. That is probably the only reason that Master Rogue Shadowstep thought to use him as your bodyguard. Alessandre has been itching for a promotion within the Cenarion Enclave for a long time now, since before either your or I were born, and Shadowstep knew that he had to keep Alessandre happy if he was going to keep him interested in working with the Kaldorei spy network. Oh, and… well Alessandre is pretty angry at me for ruining his opportunity to get in good with King Magni Bronzebeard and their network… this was back before I met your brother. Like, it was a few days right before Onyxbane tracked me down through the Badlands and cornered me in the Burning Steppes. The humans think he's too suspicious to be in SI:7, and who could blame them? He's practically the most sought after lover in all of Azeroth, and no one can trust a man with a reputation like that to not get distracted and ruin an assignment. He's such a loser._

_Okay, I think I covered everything. So, as far as seducing him is concerned, I am going to give you the best advice of your life: Don't. Don't pursue him at all, don't wink at him, don't play little games with his head. Don't surprise him with how kind and understanding you are… none of those little games. He's a very, very bad man. Far too hot for you to hold, too sexy for you to handle, my dear innocent friend. Trust me, I know. You might want to, but you can't have him._

_Now that I've said my piece, I think I am going to run outside and make sure that your brother doesn't get carried away with his shiny friend and cut himself…okay, gotta go, Onyx is swearing really loud right now, and I think he DID get carried away afterall._

_Your Friend… I hope,_

_Wisthera, Ashenvale Forest._

Opalbane read this letter over and over again, countless times because she was bedridden, and really didn't have anything else better to do. But, she decided that she would withhold final judgement on Alessandre until she heard from her good friend Willypearl. Willypearl, afterall, had read Opalbane's original letter, and knew just how much Alessandre meant to her. A day letter, Willypearl's response arrived.

_Dear Opalbane,_

_Honey, I'm so glad that you're in love! You do realize that's what it is, right? It sounds like you're wrapping your feelings up in some kind of priestly mission to save someone's soul, but you've really fallen for this guy. I'm so happy… I'm crying right now Opal. Honestly, after all the letters we've exchanged over the years, I never thought that you'd ever open up to anyone at all. Two months ago, you accepted me as your friend, and now you're beginning to have feelings for someone very special._

_Congratulations honey!_

_Oh, how do I even begin? Getting a man to like you can be a lot of fun, but the trick is you have to be unpredictable and clever. But, before you can even plan how you are going to win him over, you have got to find out what he likes. For example…okay, I think I can use this one cause whatever happened between us is in the past, and it's no big deal:_

_Okay so, when I was in love with your brother Onyxbane, and I was in love with him for really long time honey, like for years, I used to dream about how I'd tell him, and what I'd wear and do, and such. And back at the Inn in Westfall, I used to spend my nights practicing my tailoring skill. Well, when I met Elec, I started doing it when he wasn't around, so I couldn't really make what I wanted… well that' s another story, isn't it? My point is, I found out that your brother likes Heaven Peaches. Remember that time I kept askin' you what was your brother's favorite food, or flower, or color, remember? Hehe. I was tryin' to figure out just what color fabric I should use to make this dress I wanted to wear for him. Wasn't that clever? And, years later, when I had a chance to be alone with him while on the ship to Silithus…_

Opalbane put the letter down at this point. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know these things about her boneheaded warrior brother. But, if she wanted Alessandre…

_I wore that peach dress, and I think he really liked it. I think that tipped the scales for me that night. Oh, wait… well, it did for a while until Wisthera… no, I don't think I'll tell you how she got your brother away from me. Not that it matters now anyway. I'm going to marry Elec at the end of the month, did I tell you that? I wonder why I forgot to mention it…_

_So is this all sinkin' in honey? You've just got to find out what this Alessandre likes. Now, don't be mad… I told Wisthera about your letter because when I read that your new bodyguard knew our Wisthera, I got very suspicious. She is _not_ a woman of good character at all, and her morals are looser than a Defias' blade in a truce with the Peoples' Militia. That is, I don't trust her as far as I can throw her. And as a mage, I'm not really trained to throw people at all, so that's a pretty short distance. But your strong and handsome brother could though. But anyways, from what Wisthera told me, it seems that Alessandre is harmless. I saw right through all that complainin' she did and saw the truth about the new man in your life: he's someone that Wisthera is very attached to because he rejected her._

_And do you know what I think you should do to someone who rejected Wisthera? You should go after him, that's what! You don't hold anything back honey. You use every weapon in your arsenal, be it those potions you're always making with your alchemy, your good elven looks, Mind Control, whatever it takes! You show her that you are not someone whose heart you can just break, and then steal her man and flaunt it whenever she has the chance! _

_Opalbane, go get your man girl!_

_Do it for those of us who can't. Oh, and before I forget: I sold all those old clothes I made from back when I was in love with your brother to a local shopkeeper in the Trade District. That must be what you were hearin' about. People liked them so much that I opened a few stores to sell them. I told the first shopkeeper about how I wanted to use the clothes to seduce Onyxbane so that they would buy my stuff. Elec didn't want those things in the house, and I needed to get some money back after I spent so much on the cloth and materials over the years. But, as it turns out, people really loved the story behind the lingerie, so I decided to specialize in Lingerie as an Artisan Tailor, and name the stores after what sells best: the idea behind the undies. That's why those stores are called Willypearl's Secret. _

_Alright, that's enough for now I think. I'll give you more advice as you go along. When you find out what Alessandre likes, send that list to me, and I'll think up something really special for you to do, so don't worry. _

_Take care,_

_Willypearl, Eastvale Logging Camp near Stormwind._

_P.S. Oh, and there's a great pair of red underwear I designed that should be about Alessandre's size… do you think he'd want something like that? I can guarantee you that it will work if you can get him to wear it._

This letter also left Opalbane feeling more confused than when she started out. On the one hand, Wisthera's letter confirmed Opal's suspicions that Alessandre, or 'Al' as she called him, was a far more complicated person than she first assumed. But oddly enough, Wisthera's warnings hardly discouraged Opalbane. Opalbane found herself wanting to get to know Alessandre more each time she re-read Wisthera's letter. Willypearl's letter, complete with her country Westfall accent and all, was more than a bit creepy. It was so proactive, that Opalbane began to wonder if her attraction to the rogue was, in fact, normal.

In the end, Opalbane decided that she would follow her heart, and learn whatever lessons it would take to help Alessandre. Even if it did feel like her limbs were attached to strings that the wily Wisthera, and the vengeful Willypearl held firm in their grasp.

"It's a strange brand of advice, but I suppose I could do a lot worse." Opalbane thought aloud to herself after finishing Willypearl's letter. "And what the heck is she talking about, red underwear?"


	4. Hot Belf on Nelf action

**The Romancer Opalbane**

Episode Four: Hot Belf on Nelf action

Alessandre the rogue watched helplessly as Priest Benactus turned abruptly in the open doorway and pulled the heavy wooden door to his office closed fast, while facing it. In the brief second that Alessandre watched the relief on Benactus' face before the door shut, the rogue considered stopping the momentum with his foot.

But as the heavy door slammed and the doorframe around it trembled, Alessandre was reassured that he'd chosen correctly.

"I've barely got one good foot. I don't need to lose the other one," he muttered bitterly to himself.

It had taken two days, but Alessandre finally learned Priest Benactus' routine. And this morning, Alessandre discovered that Benactus was meeting with an agent of the Twilight's Hammer cult. It wasn't too hard to guess just what or whom they would be discussing. Alessandre pressed his invisible hands up against the shut door, unbelieving that Opalbane's fate teetered on the edge of his nimbleness. Why hadn't he been able to sneak into the room after Benactus swiftly enough? Of course, if Alessandre had known the meeting room in advance it would have been far easier to sneak inside beforehand. But it seemed that Benactus was wary of rogues. They way Benactus planned this meetings, without writing it down or saying aloud where it was, and the way that the shadowpriest turned instantly in the doorway so that he would face anyone who was trying to stealth past him were all simple but effective strategies for countering people who could turn invisible and sneak around you at a whim.

This did not deter Alessandre. He felt even more sure that his first impression of Benactus was right: this was a man with many secrets. Benactus was adept at keeping them because he had to deal in them so regularly.

Where Elune closed a door, she opened a window, didn't she? Alessandre knew from experience that was often the case, but he'd seen the grand stained glass window of Benactus' office from the courtyard outside. Ornate glass panes like that often remained shut, and it was the dead of winter.

"But it's been warm in Stormwind recently. If his fireplace isn't lit…"

Getting on the roof of the Cathedral of Light was easy. Nearly every rogue could guess the lay of a roof if they'd spent enough time sneaking around inside or outside of a building. Alessandre had been doing just that for the last few weeks before making contact with Opalbane on the Eve of Winter's Veil. It was shimmying down the tiny chimney that presented the biggest problem for Alessandre.

"Priest Faltheriel, so good to see you again."

Alessandre almost didn't catch the start of the meeting, the voices that carried up through the chimney were so muffled. Any normal rogue would have pressed as close to that chimney as possible and hoped that he could hear the better part of the conversation, but Alessandre wasn't your average rogue.

Alessandre took a deep calming breath, and looked around. He was alone. Then, while stealthed, he closed his eyes. He completely cleared his mind. He meditated until he could think of nothing else, feel nothing else but that basic, primal self that had no thoughts. This self is incapable of thinking, of speech, of fear, or love. This is the sub-self, the original essence that only reacts, lightning quick, to danger. It kills without remorse, without mercy. Savagery is all it knows. Alessandre let himself go completely, let the walls down, and allowed the beast in. And, when he became one with it, it was like the feral consciousness was a higher form of sentience. It had no boundaries, no culture, no goddess, nor a conscience with which to restrict itself. The law of survival, the rules of Cenarius come first within the heart of a nightsaber. The rogue transformed himself into death incarnate. In his cat form, blessed by that demigod, Alessandre felt superior to all other life.

Quietly, the slender invisible nightsaber hopped up ontop of the chimney and slipped down the chute in one swift motion. Easy for the naked eye to miss.

"…and it continues to be difficult. Each day, the hungry novices ask me about demons and the like. Do you know how frustrating that is?" the stranger's voice pleaded with Priest Benactus. As he slowly descended Alessandre simply watched where his paws pressed into the sooty walls of brick and listened. He was not capable of analyzing the words now, he knew from experience. But later, with the mind of a man who was a master of deception, a master forger, an assassin and a criminal mastermind, he could delicately unfold and reveal all the details of the conversation.

"You are still new to covert operations, Priest Faltheriel. You must resist the temptation to talk about what you love."

"How can I? Wouldn't it simply be better to recruit the novices who so clearly hunger to serve beings as powerful as the old gods? Why starve such eager talent?"

"Because that is not our job." Priest Benactus reproached the younger man firmly. Alessandre picked this moment to land in the black burnt out wood remnants of the fireplace, just as Priest Benactus' voice rose with anger. "There are others, in Silithus, who are concerned with recruitment, which can be a delicate process spanning decades. We are here to make sure that the needs of the Twilight Hammer are met, by putting pressure on those in power. You, specifically, will be a great asset in turning the Archmage. He's aluded us for far too long."

"What of the recent trial? The one with High Priestess Opalbane and the human mage Willypearl? I thought our chances to recruit him ended with that scandal." Alessandre's whirling yellow feline eyes were fixed on the other man's face. There was something incredibly familiar about it. But, then again, it was too angular.

Priest Benactus sighed heavily. "She is not a high priestess to the old god Zar'teaus yet. Either way, I am taking care of the Opalbane problem at the moment, so never you mind that. You are to focus on tempting the Archmage with your people's knowledge. It certainly served the Alliance before, and our counterparts in Silithus agree with me, Faltheriel. The presence of a Highborne priest will tempt the Archmage out of his silence. He will want to know more about you; if you have connections, other friends who have not become Blood Elves and are still willing to aid the Alliance."

Alessandre felt the purple fur on the back of his neck rise. Faltheriel's face was so familiar because it looked like his own Kaldorei face, like the face of Opalbane, Shadowstep… all the Night Elf faces he had ever seen in his life. The Highborne seated before him had once been a Night Elf, or his ancestors had been thousands of years ago, before they were banished for abusing magic and calling the Burning Legion into Azeroth. Though physically and ideologically different, the two races still shared some slight resemblances.

The High Elf removed his ornately embroidered dark hood. The long pointed ears and golden silk hair came into view. Alessandre, however, was fixed on the man's throat. It pulsed as he breathed, as he spoke. Alessandre wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into the soft flesh, rip it open…

"I don't have those kinds of connections, Benactus."

"Then lie about them, Faltheriel. Bring the Archmage to our side by piquing his curiosity. Your mission is that simple. Now, did you really come here to get advice on what you should already know to do, new recruit? I sense that you know more than you're letting on… this was only an excuse to come see me." Priest Benactus raised a bushy black eyebrow at the young man.

The High Elf smiled. It seemed too wicked, too predatory for a mere youth and cultist to achieve. It was the overconfident guise of a villain, who knew evil intimately, knew all she did to destroy people, and loved her.

A growl bubbled up in Alessandre's throat, but he was able to silence it just in time.

"I want to help you to retrieve High Priestess Opalbane."

Priest Benactus gawked at the man. It was a dumb human look compared to the self-assured elven one his counterpart gave. "She is mine to deliver back to Silithus!"

"Is that why you are keeping her a secret? Because other than myself, there is no one here in Stormwind who can keep an eye on you?"

"Stop this nonsense, Faltheriel, you know there are others. You weren't recruited just yesterday."

"Oh yes, I know there are other cultists here in Stormwind. But none of them are as clever as you. They are far too obvious about their latent powers, flaunting them within the Mage's Sanctum, or in the Keep itself. Anyone who knew what to look for could find them, and they'd be dead before they dared doubt their abilities long enough to realize the threat and go on guard. You, on the other hand… you posed as a priest of the Light for years before turning to the shadow. Afterwards, the cultists recruited you. Now, you are a man with many layers of identity, each more delicate than the next."

Priest Benactus leaned back in his seat, and clawed the lion paw armrests of his high back chair.

Druids aren't very good at reconnaissance. Alessandre was hypnotized by the unique carved armrests of Benactus' chair during the brief silence, and then became obsessed with his own paws. When was the last time he'd cleaned his fur? Alessandre began to lick his own furry paws and wash his face.

"If you're threatening me, Faltheriel—"

"No, on the contrary. I want to help you. You see, as a High Elf, those in Silithus hardly trust me. They want to know why I am not a Sin'Dorei, or one of Prince Sunstrider's men and a servant of Lord Illidan in Outland. They don't truly believe that I am a free agent, still uncorrupted by the sway of a powerful demon like Illidan, or the Burning Legion which threatens even his fate… I think that is the real reason why they sent me here, because they don't trust me near the heart of operations in Silithus."

Priest Benactus thought for a moment, and then said, "I admit, you are probably right. But I don't see how I can help you."

"You want to return Opalbane to Silithus so that the old god Zar'teaus can finish his twelfth rite of godhood. I hear he's failed it many times in the last hundred years."

"Yes, but it's not for Zar'teaus' sake. I've been doing good work here in Stormwind, but with no recognition. I want a promotion, Faltheriel. If I can help Zar'teaus, he will be very grateful, in addition to the fact that I'll have salvaged the reputation of the Twilight Cultists in one fel swoop. When Opalbane was stolen from us by Priestess Feathershine, it caused many of the cult's supporters to doubt our strength."

Faltheriel nodded, and his pale elven ears bobbed comically in the rose colored sunlight that filtered through the large stained glass window.

"And I can never return to Silithus until I do something trustworthy, like… deliver your Opalbane to them." Faltheriel added.

"If you think I am going to let you take all the credit—"

"How could I ever dare? They'd never believe that I did it singlehandedly. Nor would they trust my efforts. But, if you vouched for me, saying that I was a great help to you, as the mastermind… the backing of someone like you could get me back to where I truly want to work, in Silithus."

Priest Benactus scratched his well clipped beard as he thought about the offer. Alessandre tried his best to pay attention, but became absorbed in rubbing his invisible back against Benactus' chairleg. It was a good scratch.

"It _is_ difficult for me to leave the city with her. For right now, everyone is content to think that she entrusts me to her recovery, but everything will fall apart if she never gets well. It could cast a shadow on my abilities as a supposed priest of the Light."

"When she has truly accepted Zar'teaus in her heart, and can take the rites, let me know, and I can disappear at a moment's notice. If the Archmage questions me, I can just say that I am leaving to meet with one of my Highborne contacts."

"Very clever, Faltheriel. If I don't say so myself, I… what _are _you staring at? Is there something behind me?"

At that, Priest Benactus turned clear around in his chair, looking right at the spot where Alessandre lay curled up against his chairleg. Alessandre stopped what he was doing instantly and froze.

"No… no… I don't see anything. I just… you have excellent mana, Priest Benactus."

Priest Benactus whirled around and flinched at the other man. "What?"

"It's… delicious. It is riddled with fel energy, isn't it? And there is something else in it too… it is not completely corrupted, is it? As pure as a moonwell, as if you had two mana pools within you, resting side by side. One is like a gentle virgin, and the other an eager—"

"Faltheriel! That is quite enough. I don't respond to these strange male elf fantasies."

"Oh no, sir. It's just your mana. Might I touch your hand—"

"Absolutely not! Focus on the matter at hand. Do we have a deal or not? You will take Opalbane as soon as she's ready. My only request is that you do not let her drink. Please do not allow her to be drunk when she takes the rites this time. That is why she is not a full member and is able to elude our influence now."

But Faltheriel wasn't listening. He was still focused on a spot just behind Priest Benactus. There was nothing there, but he felt so strongly that there should be.

Meanwhile, Alessandre was watching Faltheriel intently. He knew just whose mana the High Elf sensed, and furthermore, that he sensed it at all proved that Faltheriel was no High Elf. And... it also made Alessandre feel a bit violated. First, Opalbane had stripped him in his sleep, and now this? And this was perhaps far worse because being hit on in cat form was more than disturbing.

"A magical addiction, I'm afraid. Since the destruction of the Sunwell… it's no matter really. Just hard to ignore unique mana, no matter if it is from a man or a woman. I certainly accept your offer, Benactus. There are some men who can help me take Opalbane… I can have them organized within two weeks."

"I can have her ready by then." Benactus nodded.

But Faltheriel was still watching the spot behind Benactus' chair, where Alessandre was hiding in the shadows of stealth. Now, more than ever, he wanted to rip out the man's throat. Maybe to Benactus, Faltheriel was a newly recruited Twilight's Cultist, but Alessandre was a learned rogue, and he knew better. The only Highborne in Azeroth who weren't destroyed by their painful magic addiction after the Sunwell was lost had learned to do so at a very high price. Blood Elves learned to feed off the mana of their enemies from a certain notorious demon… he was long an enemy of the Night Elves. But even more recently, there were rumors that Lord Illidan was doing work for the Burning Legion.

"So what does the Burning Legion want with Opalbane?" Alessandre muttered to himself before he shifted back into his human form and vanished into a state of improved stealth. When he did, the Blood Elf Faltheriel could no longer sense the rogue's mana. Second, Faltheriel noticed that Priest Benactus was holding the door wide open for his new accomplice to leave.

"A productive meeting, indeed." Priest Benactus smiled, and it was almost as good an imitation of the Blood Elf's.


	5. Feral druids have more stamina

**The Romancer Opalbane**

Episode Five: Feral druids have more stamina

Alessandre followed the supposed High Elf Priest Faltheriel to Old Town. Stormwind is a winding convolusion of multiple districts, but Old Town is by far the one with the most history. It was all that was left of the city when the orcs came through the Dark Portal and attacked. But, renewed construction efforts have salvaged that part of the city and others. Today, Stormwind is an impressive example of military architecture. The beautiful city can become a living trap to an enemy. He will quickly find that his movements through the city are expertly controlled by the winding avenues and gaping chasms of the both beautiful and functional canals.

Alessandre had heard whispers that Silvermoon City, the home of the Blood Elves, had undergone a similar reconstruction. It disturbed him a great deal to stalk so close behind a man that he was so repulsed by. And it was even more upsetting to Alessandre that the young Blood Elf had inadvertently revealed some kind of twisted sexual attraction to him earlier. Alessandre knew all about the Sin'dorei addiction to magic, and that addictions can make a person do strange things… he kept telling himself over and over that was all it was, and that Priest Faltheriel had not, in fact, wanted to touch Priest Benactus' hand to 'feel up' his mana.

Faltheriel's human height was enough to throw off most people, but his slender build and his cloth hood that scarcely hid the shape of his long ears began to draw attention as the Blood Elf in disguise traversed deeper into the alleyways of Old Town. Finally, when Faltheriel entered a tavern, an old soldier, perhaps a veteran of the old wars when Human men and Highborne worked together, came and challenged him.

Now that it was clear Faltheriel meant to stay in the tavern for a bit, Alessandre walked back outside, decloaked, and entered again. He took a seat at a table in the corner to watch how all this would play out.

"Hey! Just what do you think you're doing here?" The scruffy old man had certainly seen better times. He had the look and swagger of a constant drunk.

"Do not touch me, Human. I am here on business, like many other people here."

"How come your eyes ain't green? You're one of them Blood Elves, aint ye?"

Alessandre fished his pipe out of his pocket, stuffed it, and began to smoke. He was eager to see how Faltheriel was managing the parlor trick with his eyes as well. Recent reports from spies on the cutting edge of reconnaissance in Eversong Woods and agents in the frontiers of Outland all reported that Blood Elves had green eyes, unlike their Highborne counterparts. It had something to do with the way they fed their magical addiction.

"I certainly am not! That is disgusting! I am offended, sir. Were my people not once welcome in Stormwind? Regardless of what my people or Prince Sunstrider has done, I wish to continue to serve." Faltheriel defended himself.

"All of you were condemned to death during the war against the Scourge. You allied yourselves with those hateful Naga, and disobeyed a direct order!" a third patron called over his shoulder to them.

Everyone in the tavern was agitated now, and people all around were getting to their feet, and clenching fists. Alessandre idly wondered if he should let the man get a beating or keep his only connection to Opalbane's would be kidnappers alive for a few more days.

Sighing heavily, Alessandre made a signal to the bartender and ordered a drink. "No, I think I'll just enjoy this." He smiled to himself.

"My fate is for the King of Stormwind to decide! If any of you have a problem with my presence here, then I suggest you find him."

"You disrespectful… everyone knows that the King' ain't been seen for years." The original drunk veteran began to close in on tiny Faltheriel.

"I'm glad you got my joke then." Faltheriel ignored the man and settled down into his seat at an empty table in the back. Then, he raised his hand, it had a gold piece lodged between the fingers, and ordered his own drink. "A notable priest of the Light, Father Benactus, recruited me. I'm sure he's taken many confessions in this room… shall I go and inform him that his own companion is being treated so poorly?"

Alessandre took a sip of his wine. He didn't drink mead, not even in places like this. "I'm impressed, Blood Elf." He muttered under his breath.

It seemed that Priest Faltheriel's threat hit home with many in the tavern. Some people nearby him picked up their drinks and moved. Everyone knows that capable priests can use a Mind Vision to pick the brains of others. Faltheriel had done so quickly enough and to so many people around him that he was sufficiently intimidating.

When Faltheriel's drink came to his table, he offered it to the bitter veteran, who gladly snatched it away and returned to the bar.

"Why hello there, stranger."

Alessandre nearly choked on his wine. It was Myrielle Fadeleaf, Master Rogue Shadowstep's right hand woman.

"What _is_ the lovely second in command to the Master Rogue doing in Stormwind… in my bar, while I'm working?"

Myrielle was gorgeous. She had purple skin and dark blue hair that she wore short. It was clipped smartly just along her jaw. Satiny, red leaf-shaped markings absorbed the majority of her face. Look at her head on, and her lips begged to be kissed. But, if she turned just the right way in the shadow, one might think she was going to bite you.

"You're already answered your own question rogue. I'm watching you of course. You haven't been making it easy on me though. How is it possible for a person to live entirely in stealth?"

Alessandre poured a cup of wine for Myrielle and then took another sip himself. "Dear, I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about."

Myrielle leaned in close to Alessandre and kissed him on the cheek. "Oh, I know you very well," she whispered to him sweetly, but in a flash her tone turned savage and dangerous, "You are gunning for my job, you prick. And I've not forgotten how you nearly ruined things for me last time."

Myrielle leaned back in her chair and fluttered her long blue eyelashes at Alessandre. Alessandre toasted Myrielle and took a long drink.

"What? No apology for breaking my heart? No offer to make it up to me? I'm crushed." Myrielle started sweetly but then her tone turned ugly at the end.

"I'm on assignment. I can't do that while I'm working." Alessandre shrugged.

"You arrogant bastard, I'm not here to ask you to my bed!" she flared and slammed her cup down. "I am here to make sure that you don't do anything stupid. Master Rogue Shadowstep has suffered more than enough disappointments this year, and he doesn't trust you. You _do_ remember your contract right? All the Twilight Cultists in Stormwind must be dead by month's end. Priestess Feathershine might have made you feel that you are on some kind of mission of mercy, to protect her foster daughter, but that is not who you're working for."

"I am working for them both, Myrielle." Alessandre frowned. "This wine is not so good."

"Pay attention to me! Are you even listening? Shadowstep wants you to do whatever it takes… even if you have to seduce her…just draw them out and be done with it."

"Are you truly telling me how to do my job, Myrielle? Or, are you just terrified because you know that every moment you spend away from Darnassus, some young rogue is ruthlessly fighting to fill your spot."

Myrielle smiled grimly. Her luscious red lips looked a bit lonely to Alessandre, but he realized it was probably just the wine. "I know that the greatest threat to my career is sitting inches in front of me. Years ago, I thought it was just some kind of tease that you wanted, and you almost convinced me to abandon my place beside Shadowstep for you. I can't believe I nearly fell for that."

"You could fall for it again, you know." Alessandre rested his chin on his palm and leaned clear across the table.

Myrielle recoiled in disgust. "What happened to, 'I'm on assignment'? Now you're seducing me?"

Alessandre exhaled, frustrated. "No. At least I hope not. I didn't mean to."

Myrielle was Shadowstep's right hand for a very good reason. She thought quickly about everything she knew of Alessandre and read him in a flash.

"You like her. Priestess Feathershine's daughter, that creepy Opalbane… you like her but you can't have her, is that it? And you're coming on to me now because you've been holding out. You're sick, you know that? You've been a womanizer for years and years, not one woman has ever eluded your advances—"

"Except for Wisthera."

"Ah, yes, except for her. I have to admit, you dodged a bullet there."

"My thoughts exactly." Alessandre frowned at the memory. Eversince she ruined his assignment for King Magni Bronzebeard, Wisthera continued to be a thorn in Alessandre's side.

"Anyways, as I was saying, no woman has ever gotten away from you when you wanted something, but this time, it's really going to happen isn't it? Shadowstep wants you to use your 'special skills' on Opalbane so that you can get her do whatever is needed to draw these cultists out. But you don't want to sleep with her because you know that you'll lose control of everything… just like all those other times."

"I'll have you know that I am an excellent lover. My reputation precedes me."

"Because you mate like a lion. It's like you're part nightsaber, Alessandre. It's strange that you have that kind of endurance, and it's a bit freaky, but it works for a lot of us women. That's why you're letting me sit here right now, when you're supposed to be working."

Alessandre left off staring at Myrielle's mouth and took another drink of wine. He eyed Priest Faltheriel. The supposed High Elf was staring at him too. Alessandre thought for a moment before reacting. No, he was staring the voluptuous Myrielle. She was blowing his cover, by drawing too much attention. Myrielle's time was up.

"You know what I think, Alessandre?" Myrielle leaned forward, and Alessandre tried not to look down her shirt. "I think Shadowstep is testing you. He knows that you have a weakness for women, and he wants to see if you can help Feathershine's daughter without harming her. It's the perfect test actually. Oh, he's so brilliant!"

"It's just a delicate situation, that's all Myrielle. You know, you're making this very hard for me. My quarry is making eyes at you, and I don't want him to remember my face."

Second Commander Myrielle smiled wickedly. "I'm watching you, Alessandre, I am. But you're right that I should go, I'll ruin everything. Who is that guy, anyways? He's kind of cute… I've never been with a Highborne."

"Don't." Alessandre warned. "He's… I wouldn't want you sleeping with a Blood Elf."

Myrielle was shocked. She leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath before downing the rest of her wine. "Were you going to tell anyone? He's a traitor right there in our midst!"

"No, Myrielle. Just let me handle this my way. He's meeting with someone, and I have to hear what he says to them. I can't do anything to anyone until I am sure of who I have to kill. That means I need to know just why I'm killing them."

Myrielle left some silver on the table for her drink, but Alessandre pushed it back into her hand. "No, I'll pay for this. You know that money's nothing to me, anyways. You promise that you're not going to go reporting things back to Shadowstep prematurely?"

"Rogue's honor." Myrielle said coyly, which of course, meant nothing at all.

"Oh, and one more thing before I go, Alessandre, and this is really serious."

Faltheriel's contacts were coming in the door. Two men, not any better than common thugs, who looked like they came expecting a meal. Those kind of desperate people made Alessandre nervous.

"Hurry it up then, Myrielle."

"There's been a spike in murders here in the city. This comes straight from SI:7. They don't know who's behind it, but people like us should especially be on the lookout."

"Why's that?" Alessandre made himself ask in a calm voice.

"They think a druid is doing it… don't laugh. Feral druids can be dangerous, and they use stealth like we do. So… you know, watch your back Alessandre."

Alessandre shrugged while Myrielle stared at him. He couldn't help the feeling that she was waiting to see his reaction.

"If that's really all, then please go."

"Yeah, yea that's all I came here to say." She said quickly, and then added as she got up, "There's talk in the Cenarion Enclave back in Darnassus that the Archdruid might recall all the druids here in Stormwind… wouldn't that be a shame? With all of them gone, they'll never find out just who's doing it."

Alessandre grunted and called for more wine. When he turned back around, Myrielle was not there, but her silver lay defiantly on the table.


	6. Sexy Mana

**The Romancer Opalbane**

Episode Six: Sexy Mana

"There are three stipulations to this kidnapping if it is going to look authentic." Priest Faltheriel announced before the thugs and cutthroats in the room. In the tavern earlier that day, Alessandre overheard the time and location of Faltheriel's secret meeting. Unlike with Priest Benactus, it was much easier to sneak into this room because the young Blood Elf Faltheriel was arrogant and sloppy with his secrets.

Alessandre remembered attending similar meetings back when he was down on his luck and stuck in Stormwind about twenty years ago. Hanging out in Cutthroat Alley landed him a few rare assignments that got him back on his feet. Those key assassinations were surely what caused Shadowstep to welcome him into the Kaldorei rogue guild all those years ago. And imbetween jobs, it proved an excellent hunting ground… but Alessandre tried to resist that hunger to kill, his own little addiction. Every rogue was tempted into the profession by something forbidden. For some it was money, power, the ego stroke one got from deceiving so many… everyone had something. Cutthroat Alley meant a great deal to Alessandre and everyone else who needed desperately to be a rogue.

Faltheriel raised his hand for silence in the room. "First, in order to be bonded to an old god, a High Priest must have an ancient bloodline. We already know that Opalbane and her family have a significant one. But what is important for you to remember is that you take care in apprehending her. Don't mar any birthmarks, or markings of any kind on her skin. To diminish these in any way is to weaken her connection to her ancestors, and thus to the old god." He said.

Men around the room mumbled to eachother. Some nodded heads while others whispered in their friends' ears. To Alessandre, it seemed obvious that some of the meatheads in the room needed Faltheriel's lofty language translated into more brusque terms.

"He means don't smack her around." An especially large human man with sandy brown hair suddenly bellowed. Then, he raised his hands for silence, got it, and nodded for Faltheriel to continue.

"Err… Thank you Max. The second stipulation is thus: Opalbane must be in her right mind when she's taken before the cultists to complete the rites. Last time, she was drunk off her own feet, and none of the words she said before the windstones were heartfelt. That is the only reason why she's not in Silithus now. Under no circumstances, are you to allow her any alcohol. Even if she asks for it."

More confused whispers from the assembly.

"The Elf said not to give her any liquor."

"Especially rum." Faltheriel added, a silken gold eyebrow raised at the people gathered.

"Heh! What if she wants to have a good time with us?" someone in the crowd jibed and everyone else roared with laughter.

Faltheriel cleared his throat, and eyed Max who threatened all the scruffy men in the room with such oaths of violence, that Alessandre was even tempted to cover his ears. And he was an assassin by trade.

When silence was once again achieved, Faltheriel sighed. "That, unfortunately, brings me to the last stipulation of Priestess Opalbane's capture. I know that it is your way, and against the code of thieves and cutthroats, but I can't offer you this woman as a prize. Currently, she is virgin, and must remain a virgin if she is going to be worth anything to the Cultists."

Animated objections erupted throughout the room.

"Now, now, I'm giving each of you one hundred gold—a head—if this is done exactly right. You can hire out all the cathouses in Old Town with that kind of money. I don't see why this should be a problem."

"Sir, it's gonna' be real hard to convince these men not to touch a woman elf… most of 'em never even been close to one before. The only ones in the city are powerful soldiers, and won't be abused… and if they ain't that strong, then they're always in the Trade District around all them soldiers…I can't guarantee that a bedridden virgin princess is gonna' come out in ah… err… mint condition the way we found her."

Faltheriel groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a forefinger and thumb. "Are you telling me that… your men have no compulsion whatsoever… that they can't even keep their pants on for the ten minutes it will take to throw a bag over her head and drag her outside the city walls?"

The man named Max shrugged. Alessandre made a mental note: _Max dies, Faltheriel dies…_

Very quietly, too calmly, Faltheriel pulled off his delicate embroidered gloves and set them on the table before him. Most of the buildings in Cutthroat Alley were abandoned and boarded up. This one, which normally seemed empty, was always being watched for a good reason. It was the one decent place that certain types of people could hold meetings, away from the watchful eyes of the city guard or the thirsty innocence of curious passerby. Thugs of all types held Cutthroat Alley sacred, would defend this most dangerous place in Stormwind with their lives if need be. The location was at the crux of many criminal operations.

Alessandre was no stranger here, and he knew better than to move or even breathe too loudly. He'd come in here when no one expected a thief to enter, in broad daylight, and he would leave once all these experienced thieves and rogues were gone.

Faltheriel's pale hands had slender fingers. It looked like he hadn't done a day of work in his life. No one was really paying attention to him, except for Alessandre. The arguing over who would get to 'have' Opalbane was getting too loud. Then, without warning, Faltheriel pointed to a dwarf in the throng and the short bearded man grasped the sides of his head in pain.

The screaming brought everyone to a halt.

"When someone disappoints me…" Faltheriel began to explain, and twisted his delicate hands into an angry claw, "I feed on him thus," And then, the Blood Elf spread both his arms out wide, and a mad look came into his eyes. Blue magic erupted from his hands, and the agonizing man he targeted seemed to melt from his bones. A blue aura oozed from the dwarf, and finally coalesced into a glowing bright ball of energy. Everyone in the room backed away from it.

Faltheriel smiled as he saw the ball of mana energy whirl and pulsate. Then, he pushed the poor man's dilapidated body over, and the thug collapsed in a heap.

"I strip the life energy from his flesh, and claim it for my own." Then an ugly twisted look came to Faltheriel's perfect face, and he wrapped his gentle fingers around the volatile ball of energy and ushered the unwilling ball of energy into his mouth. It was grotesque to watch the blue power fight him, and veins of energy licked at the sides of his face like lightning as he ingested it whole.

"By the Light! You killed him." Someone shouted.

"Not yet, I didn't." Faltheriel snarled and everyone leapt back a step. Alessandre felt his skin crawl.

"He still breathes. But he, like the rest of you, wants to defy me, and mate with that priestess Kaldorei… do you not know that there is a greater pleasure than sex, a more consuming sensuality that rides on demons' wings?" Faltheriel sounded like a monster, but moved like a gentleman. "And all I shall pay you in is gold! You are greatly shortchanged by that price… if you even knew what she means to us, to completing our plans…" Faltheriel began to glow bright from the mana he'd consumed from the man. Alessandre scanned the many faces in the room… Faltheriel managed to pick out the one mana user among them, a young dwarf hunter with the same dark intentions the rogues had.

Alessandre knew he had to get out of there, and soon.

"And then… if he displeases me further…" but Faltheriel did not have to explain what he did next. Another graceful gesture at the agonizing dwarf on the ground, and purple energy leapt up from the body and into the palm of his hand. Enough of these men had dealt with dark adventurers to recognize a simple warlock spell.

"But I thought he was a priest?" Alessandre muttered to himself.

When it was done, the writhing dwarf lay still and dead. A purple soulshard the color of clotted blood lay in Faltheriel's palm. He walked back behind the table he'd been using as a makeshift podium and sat down.

"In a fortnight, you will return here to this place," he said, as he began to spin the dwarf's soulshard in idle circles, the way one played with a coin out of boredom. "You will bring your weapons, your gags, whatever you think will be helpful to you in apprehending a shadowpriestess… she should be willing, but even if she isn't, I want someone to be able to control her while we take care of the guards and other casters who try to stop us. You will put her in a cart, and take her from the city, where I will be waiting. When she arrives at my feet, the priestess will not be scarred, nor will she be affected by drink. And, she will still be a virgin." Faltheriel stopped playing with the shard then. He met the eyes of a few key people in the group, and then picked up the soulshard and swallowed it whole.

Words cannot describe the troubled looks of revulsion and disgust that came even into the faces of the worst of all men, gathered in that room.

Alessandre thought he would be sick.

Faltheriel closed his eyes, savoring the taste of the shard, and when he opened them again, they glowed a steady, menacing fel green.

"Is that quite clear?" he asked softly.

Max led the others in a resounding 'Yes' that satisfied the Blood Elf.

"I'm sure that you realize that was no parlor trick. "I've avoided taking the mana of sentient beings until tonight… I couldn't stand the fast any longer, and it was also convenient in helping me to make my point. If you cross me, you will meet a fate worse than death. I'm sure you also agree that whatever Priest Benactus, or any of the other Twilight Cultists in the city say is irrelevant from this point onward. All of you here work for me. I will not be disappointed."

This was the first time that Alessandre actually feared for his life in Cutthroat Alley. He risked everything and sneaked out alongside the others while stealthed, hoping to stay far away from Faltheriel and his strange ability to sense the mana of strangers.

"That sexy mana again…" Alessandre heard Faltheriel mumble after the rogue had left the room. Alessandre cringed and told himself over and over, _It's just an addiction, just an addiction to magic… it's got nothing to do with me personally. _

But Alessandre could not sneak down the stairs to the lower level fast enough. In the landing before the last set of stairs, Faltheriel caught up with his invisible quarry, and Alessandre was pinned in a corner. The other shady types got away from Faltheriel quickly and exited the house.

"You've stopped moving, have you? No matter, I could never resist mana like yours. Two mana pools lusting to take you over. One is as virginal as a moonwell, the other is fel mana, a thirsty whore. Why do they live in you like that together… why haven't you satisfied either of them?" Faltheriel sneered and glanced all around him. Alessandre felt safer that the Blood Elf couldn't see him, exactly.

"Who are you? A woman? A man? A beast, perhaps? You were there with Priest Benactus and I weren't you? At the time, I thought it was the old human… but it was you in the room, spying on us."

As a Night Elf, Alessandre was much taller than Faltheriel. Normally his height was an attractive asset, and he knew from experience that many women in the Alliance found that attractive. However, in this moment, Alessandre wished he wasn't so tall. As Faltheriel felt the empty air around him with the trembling hands of an addict, Alessandre knew that he had mere moments before he was discovered. There is nothing a rogue hates more than an unpredictable situation. Those who rely on stealth need to manipulate events in their favor, strike from the shadows when there is greatest advantage. Alessandre was dealing with an adversary whose class he was not sure of, whose racial abilities were confusing and new, and to make things worse, Alessandre wasn't sure who Faltheriel worked for, the Twilight Cultists, or the Burning Legion. Would it be far more dangerous to kill this Blood Elf?

Then Faltheriel faced him. "I see you, druid." Faltheriel said.

Did he truly see him? Alessandre thought quickly. No, not yet, or else Faltheriel would be surprised for a number of reasons. The most obvious being that druids, not even Night Elf druids, could stealth around unless in cat form. And that fact gave Alessandre an idea.

Just as Faltheriel lunged forward to grab hold of whatever he thought was in front of him, Alessandre dodged and switched into his cat form. In an instant, he had become smaller, and was able to slip around the Blood Elf easily.

Alessandre raced down the last flight of stairs, into the empty main room, and dashed toward the doorway. Faltheriel was left groping at thin air.

"I will find you, druid! Now I know that you are watching me…" the Blood Elf threatened in his superior tone.

Was it better if his enemy thought Alessandre was a druid? Alessandre twitched his purple nightsaber tail impatiently as he tried to reason the answer. Of course, in his cat form, he could not assess the danger. Alessandre left the house and crept into the shadows of Cutthroat Alley outside. He could sense the heartbeats of murderers.

Alessandre knew that he should go warn Opalbane but the familiar shadows, the stench of wanted men who thought they could hide transported Alessandre to another time and place. It was a place where he had reveled in his own addiction. Would it be so horrible if he enjoyed the hunt in Cutthroat Alley one last time? Alessandre's more reasonable thoughts were drowned out by his purring.


	7. Here kitty, kitty, kitty

**Episode Seven: Here kitty, kitty, kitty**

The purple nightsaber paced high above Cutthroat Alley. Artfully, slender paw was placed before slender paw. The cat had mere inches of rooftop on which to maneuver, but that didn't matter. Alessandre could have been walking on a tight rope at the Darkmoon Faire and he'd have more room to pace than this. Always he was part rogue and part feral druid. He achieved an inconceivable grace, an impossibly delicate stealth. Perhaps others in his profession might admire him for it, or more than likely, try to profit from his unique powers somehow… but Alessandre loathed himself. Why? Because he couldn't think, he couldn't be any more than what he was. And right now, he heard the heartbeat of a man stories below him. The assassin in him knew about the jugular vein, the feral druid in him could sense the blood rushing through that humanoid… could taste it. It was salty sweet, and painful to ignore.

Alessandre growled low, shook his neat streamlined jowls, grimaced… he could resist it couldn't he? But the Blood Elf Faltheriel had gone. There was no greater predator here, and no reason to resist. He was safe to indulge, to overpower this other man. And he knew what that felt like, to have the power of a god…

"I hear somethin' Charlie." The man with a sandy blonde beard nodded at a stretch of naked alley behind them.

His friend laughed. "He's an idiot then, if you can hear him. Next, you'll be seein' him too. Hey you! Come out!"

Charlie was drunk. "Shh! Charlie, you're not thinkin' right at the moment. Don't let him know we're on to him or we'll never get to kill the guy. Besides, he's probably just picking pockets, the poor bastard. I bet you scared him away."

But Alessandre wasn't scared. He was crouched right behind the man with the sandy beard. It would be so easy to pounce on him now, kill him fast, but what was the fun in that? He sneaked back to the place where the two men watched the shadows, the place where Alessandre had been a sloppy sneak… on purpose.

Then, Alessandre decloaked.

"A druid! You furry bastard! This place ain't for your kind. What's wrong with you people, thinking you can do the work of a rogue… well you ain't got the training. No one's gonna' hire you to filch anything, or take anybody out, you here? Now, get out of our alley!" the sandy bearded man shouted.

There were others in the alley as well. Of course they had been watching. Rogues always watched everything, especially when they appeared to be absorbed in their own business. Now, they turned their eyes to the lone nightsaber.

Alessandre was laughing inside. He stretched, and yawned while the bearded man and the others shouted insults at him. A flash of green on his right. Not druid magic, a bottle… Alessandre dodged the object thrown at him. He did not turn his head toward the attacker, but roved his ear around in that direction. A man who breathed too fast, and lived on the edge of his nerves.

_You'll be next._ Alessandre sat down.

"What are you waitin' for? An invitation? Leave!" the sandy bearded man shouted again.

Alessandre was waiting for it, the inevitable joke they always made. He needed that to get the rush he wanted.

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty." The drunk man called Charlie knelt and beckoned to Alessandre. Inside Alessandre was smiling. Charlie laughed and drew his dagger, but he never got back to his feet.

"Charlie!" his friend shouted.

Alessandre roared and charged in. His delicate purple paw flashed claws the color shimmering moonlight. He ripped through the humble leather armor in seconds, clawed through to the flesh. His nightsaber self did not know about the delicate organs just beyond. But the assassin in him knew about the liver, how to reach up imbetween the third and fourth rib to get to the heart.

Charlie was dead before he even knew it.

A shining glint of steel flashed in Alessandre's field of vision, but he easily parried it with his claw.

"You're gonna' die for that! Charlie was my friend!" the sandy haired man hollered at the Alesasndre but missed. His opponent cast something on himself and seemed to fade into the background. It caused him to evade nearly every attack that Alessandre tried. Men hiding in the shadows around the alley got quiet. No doubt they would rush in and take shots at the druid if he proved weak against one of their own.

This was a terrible time to lose face. Alessandre shifted into his bear form, swiped a huge paw at the dodging man and succeeded in stunning him in place. Then, he shifted back into cat form so fast that if one would miss the bear if he blinked. Then Alessandre clawed and raked at the man, swiped at him, shifted out again to stun him once more, and then immediately back. He paced, self satisfied as the man doubled over helplessly and simply stood there bleeding to death.

The rogue's heart raced as he watched. Inside, he was screaming with the orgasm of the slow death. But he needed something else to perfect this moment… the bottle-thrower.

But when Alessandre turned to find the man, he'd gone. Alessandre couldn't exactly think in his cat form but he knew from experience that rogues couldn't stealth away that fast… the man must still be nearby.

As the sandy-bearded man coughed up more blood, Alessandre worked fast to time the last murder perfectly. A rouge might depend on the environment to give his quarry away. Grass wilted by footsteps, men who jumped out of the way as a stealthed stranger sneaked boldly past them could reveal an invisible enemy. However, none of the rogues here were willing to give up one of their own. That was when being a druid came in handy. Alessandre stalked over to the glass bottle that shattered a few feet away, and inhaled a deep breath of its owner's scent.

With his second kill stunned and still dying, Alessandre shifted quickly into his rogue form and vanished before anyone realized what was going on. He needed to escape combat. Then, with the scent of the man still in his Night Elf nostrils, he found the man he wanted in a matter of moments. The bottle thrower had paused at the only makeshift entrance and exit to Cutthroat Alley. It was a kicked in door at the back of an abandoned shop. The man knew the cat was coming for him but couldn't understand how it had disappeared, so he waited.

But Alessandre would murder the man who lay in wait for him, faster than anyone would see. But Alessandre would see, and he would know. Alessandre got right up behind the man, poised with the dagger. His heart raced as he eyed the incapacitated victim a ways down the alley, still bleeding into the moonlit pool at his feet. In his mind he counted the seconds he had left…

Five until his improved stealth wore off, four until the bleeding man ran out of life, three until he was ready for the ambush…

Two piercing screams filled the air at once, and all the rogues in the alley who could stealthed and hid themselves from the three gruesome murders. Alessandre barely caught the glint of his decloaked dagger as it ripped through the other man and the ambush took its full effect. As soon as it was done he restealthed immediately. To all others living in the shadows of the alley, it looked like a phantom had killed the bottle thrower in one shot, and then death had leapt across the span of the alley to the bleeding man immediately, though it shouldn't have been possible. They were all rogues, they had been counting the seconds of life left in the bleeding man as well. He'd died a second too early Silently, Alessandre sneaked back and retrieved his throwing knife from the sandy-bearded man's throat.

"To simply let you bleed to death would be far too easy an end for my prey." Alessandre's mind raced as he muttered to himself. He couldn't think for the rushing adrenaline, was blinded by the sight of blood, and his palms throbbed with excitement. The screaming was still in his ears and delighted him in a way that no man should be delighted by death. Like he always did, Alessandre saw Silithus and the shadowpriestess when the screaming subsided. She extended her hand to him, electric with the shadow power. Once again, he made the decision to hold back too late because he loved her. But… if this time he could kill, perhaps it could unhappen, just this once.

_Later at the Cathedral of Light in Stormwind…_

Opalbane was surprised to hear the deadbolt grate free against her door in the middle of the night, but she was not surprised at who it was.

"Alessandre… it's been three days. I almost thought you weren't coming back." Quietly, she slid what she had been writing under her pillow. It was the list for Willypearl that she could not possibly complete anyway when the man she needed was so elusive.

Alessandre said nothing, but came to the bed and knelt before her.

"Oh, Al." Opalbane wept when she saw him in the moonlight and drew him into her arms. The blood all over his excellent black armor smeared against her virgin white hands, stained her frail nightgown. Alessandre was wooden against her, even though she insisted on hugging him.

"Al, what happened? Are you hurt? If you'll only let me heal you… Where did you go Al, what happened to you? Did you find Benactus' contact? Am I safe?"

Alessandre did not answer her many questions. They were more than fair and she deserved to know the answers to all of them since it was her fate, her life at stake. As he always did, and as most rogues tend to do, Alessandre avoided the tough questions because he was not yet ready for them. Instead he said weakly,

"Priestess… I have a confession to make. You said that confessing would make me feel better, didn't you?"

Opalbane shuddered as she held him. She could feel the weight of his pain, the greatness of his sin, but would he dare to tell her? All she could do was wait, and hope.

"I can't help myself when I… I keep reliving it." Alessandre tried to explain but failed.

"Reliving what, Alessandre? You can trust me. I care about you."

But Alessandre did not answer this question either. Instead he slipped back into his old ways which were comfortable than incriminating himself. Wounded by the daggers of the newly dead and his old guilt, Alessandre climbed into the bed and pressed Opalbane down underneath him. Then, he began to kiss her.

"I'm not so broken. I have nothing to hide, Opalbane, and you are safe." Alessandre lied.

Frightened, Opalbane nodded and let herself be kissed. But when Alessandre wasn't looking, she discreetly put all the tiny manaburn candles out.

Author's note: I know it's been a while, but I should be back on schedule in a week or so.


	8. Opal chats up Al

**Episode Eight: Opal chats up Al**

"Alright Al, now what is your favorite color?"

Alessandre lay in bed next to Opalbane with his hands folded over his bare stomach. This was the most well rested he'd felt in a long time, but he wasn't about to tell Opalbane that.

"What's with all these questions? I tell you that I have two weeks to hunt down all the Twilight Cultists in Stormwind and you're not even concerned for yourself?"

Opalbane smiled sweetly. "Just be glad that I'm not using a Mind Vision on you to get what I want."

"Like the last time I spent the night?" Alessandre lifted his head slightly to double check that the manaburn candles were still lit. The tiny blue flames flickered reassuringly.

"There is one big difference between the first time you spent the night with me and last night. Last night, I didn't take any of your clothes off."

"Are you sure? You seem to be hinting at something more."

Opalbane blushed. "I thought you would… why didn't you go any further than that kiss?"

Alessandre couldn't resist patting Opalbane's hand. It was poised just slightly over the parchment she balanced in her lap. The stylus was already starting to dry, which she reminded him of with an impatiently arched eyebrow.

"Opalbane… I just couldn't. You know that."

"You're not sorry that you didn't take advantage of me, are you?" Opalbane was trying to sound sarcastic and unconcerned, but the tinge of hurt in her voice gave her away.

Alessandre opened his mouth to say something, but then paused. "Al… No one has ever called me that. I like that you do."

Opalbane smiled.

"And I like that you are smiling more now. I have to admit that I was worried about you before, when you didn't smile."

"I thought you were just watching me to gather information?" Opalbane teased.

Alessandre chuckled. "Yes, you have me there. But I'm just glad that you are feeling better now. Oh, and the answer to your question is red."

"Why red?"

Alessandre shrugged. "I never thought about it very much… my favorite color has always been red. To me that color is _alive._ It lives and breathes… it _feels_, Opalbane."

"The same could be said of green. Green is the color trees, of Elune's sacred forests. It's funny, actually. Almost every druid I've ever met has been in love with the color green for the exact same reasons. Isn't that curious?"

Alessandre wouldn't look at Opalbane. He stretched and folded arms under his head.

"Well what's next then? Maybe you want to know my last name? Or my favorite holiday… perhaps my favorite food?"

Opalbane nodded.

"You know, if you were a fellow rogue I'd be very suspicious of you and this little game we've been playing all morning. You're not preparing a document to hand over to the cultists are you? Or, perhaps Shadowstep or Priestess Feathershine?"

Opalbane didn't miss that Alessandre sounded a bit more serious than he should have in his jest. "No, this is just a little something for a diary I've started. I'm surprised at you Al, you would suspect your own guild leader and a Priestess of Elune of prying into your personal life?"

Alessandre shrugged and the position of his arms caused his pectoral muscles to tighten. His skin, the color of a dark pearl drunk on red wine, glistened in the morning light. Opalbane forced her gaze back onto her parchment. "Shadowstep may be the leader of Kaldorei rogues in the Cenarion Enclave, but he's no friend of mine. I'm sure he's done as much sleuthing about my background as possible, but he doesn't know everything. And he's the type that would always be willing to know more. Priestess Feathershine, whatever her motivations, is working for Master Shadowstep too."

"What! My foster mother has a strong will… I think you've got it the other way around. I've seen Shadowstep fawn over her for years. He eats out of her hand."

"He's eating something, I'll bet." Alessandre joked crudely, but shivered when Opalbane scowled at him.

"What I mean is, I know Shadowstep well. He likes to be in control." Alessandre amended quickly. "Beyond my name and my career, Opalbane, Shadowstep doesn't know about my being a druid some twenty years ago. And I've been careful not to reveal myself to any of the druids who share the Cenarion Enclave with the rogues in Darnassus." Then, he got quiet, "I don't know why I told you that secret… I'd never told anyone before. I have to trust that you'll keep it to yourself."

Opalbane nodded, but then she said, "It's not that you feel forced to trust me, Alessandre. You _do_ trust me. And I trust you. We're friends."

Alessandre idly scratched his goatee and then stretched out again. "So we are, Moonlily. I'm a very dangerous man though. Are you certain that you want to put so much faith in me? I can assure you that I don't deserve it."

"It's mine to give." Opalbane shrugged, "It's up to you what you do with it."

A tense moment passed between them. Suddenly, Alessandre didn't feel so comfortable anymore. "My current name is not my own. My favorite holiday--and this only occurred to me recently—is the time of year when Love is In the Air… I think that's what they call it here in Stormwind. And I guess, on that note, my favorite food is chocolate. Heh, I bet that's strange."

Opalbane looked at Alessandre critically. "Either you are very much influenced by trends in Stormwind, or you are lovesick yourself for having such romantic taste. I've not been to the Trade District myself lately, but I hear it's filled with vendors selling love tokens and candy, and that there are wreaths of red flowers everywhere… sound familiar?"

Alessandre laughed right out loud at that. "I swear it's a coincidence, Opal! I only like this holiday because the women are so easy—"

The heated look Opalbane shot Alessandre cut his sentence right off.

"Well, that was when I was a young man, anyways. I don't look for love, you see. It finds me."

Opalbane shook her head in disbelief. "Maybe the woman from your past ruined you for lovemaking, but I don't see that it diminished your libido any."

Then, they laughed together.

"So what happens next, Al? Did you find out who Benactus' contact is?"

"Oh yes. And he isn't pretty… well I've got a professional opinion from a woman rogue that he is actually quite attractive, but evil always is, isn't it? And, because I have only two weeks to find all the Cultists in Stormwind, I think it's time to out myself as your bodyguard. I think that if I let them know I'm on to them, they'll make some mistakes, or get excited and try to warn their friends. Then all I'll have to do is watch for the fallout."

Opalbane squealed with glee, and Alessandre had to put a finger to her lips to quiet her. It made him laugh.

"Oh, I can't wait for Benactus to meet you! He will be impressed!"

Alessandre became solemn. "Be careful, Opalbane. It sounds like you have some kind of paternal fixation on Benactus… it's more than understandable considering that you lost your own father, and goddess knows Shadowstep could have never filled those kind of shoes for you. But… you know that Benactus is a Twilight Cultist. He is going to die."

Opalbane looked mournful, then she sighed. "I suppose you're right Al… I'm still thinking like a cultist, aren't I? According to Silithus, Benactus is the one who recruited me… he is a lot like a father to me because of that sponsorship. It's hard to let that mentality go."

"I have others on my list as well, Opalbane. I seriously doubt you've heard of Max, but what about Faltheriel?"

Opalbane stared up at the ceiling as she recalled the many hooded faces around the burnt orange fel crystals and the spooky blue campfires of the Twilight Cultist camps.

"No, I've not heard of him. Maybe he's new?"

"He's been there long enough for them to reassign him up here in Stormwind. How long does it usually take to get that kind of promotion?."

Opalbane laughed spitefully. "That's a demotion. They don't trust him, but he's powerful so they want him affiliated with them… but it takes a few months to gain enough trust for that kind of work. Why do you ask?"

Alessandre grimaced. "I can only tell you so much Moonlily… but don't forget that there are no High Elves in Stormwind. I don't care what anyone tells you, even if it's your mage friend… magic users can be blinded by power, even if it is someone as kind as your Willypearl."

"You know about Willypearl?" Opalbane looked shocked.

Alessandre nodded. "As part of my debriefing for this mission, I was asked to read your brother's book, _The Romancer Onyxbane_. Maybe I should have warned you… but I'm so used to people being wary of rogues because we tend to know everything anyways. It keeps us alive, you understand."

"I see." Opalbane answered quietly. Then she thought for a moment and said. "I know that we're family, but before you get any ideas about me, please know that my brother has always been a pervert. I could never… I'm not capable of doing the things he did to Willypearl, Wisthera, and Priestess Feathershine. Personally, I don't know why Shadowstep hasn't hunted him down yet."

Alessandre laughed heartily again. "How do you know Shadowstep isn't? Not that you should be worried… Onyxbane's too close to Feathershine for that."

Opalbane and Alessandre listened to the quiet creakings of the hallway floorboards as priestesses stirred just outside the door.

Alessandre whispered, "From what I've seen, there are only two ways for a Master Rogue to lose his title in the Cenarion Enclave. The first is death. If he dies while on a mission, he becomes a hero. But if his comrades kill him, it's because he's corrupt, and that is dishonorable. Second, if he leaves the position alive, it's because he's become discredited by his underlings and forced to step down. Surprisingly, there is no scandal in leaving a position alive. It's really the only way to force a Master Rogue out and other people in the profession understand that. I think they may even discredit a Master Rogue on purpose. Rogues can't retire, for obvious reasons."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Opalbane worried.

Alessandre smiled. "Because that is your insurance regarding your brother's well-being. If Shadowstep wants to remain in the good, he'll leave your poor innocent civilian brother alone, or face scandal that his enemies will latch onto in an instant so they can force him out. Every rogue has a weakness, you see. It's pretty obvious what Shadowstep's weakness is. But, because she works in the Temple of Elune, someone would have to risk the wrath of High Priestess Tyrande herself or the fury of Darnassus if they wanted to get at Feathershine. And, if you can imagine how hard that would be for enemies to the Night Elves, just think of how difficult a political situation that would make for someone within Darnassus. Shadowstep's survived more than most because his one weakness is so safeguarded. In addition, he's made the right kinds of enemies, but not too many of them. He's a fair boss on the whole and always does good work. Furthermore, Shadowstep is widely feared. When you get right down to it, no one has ever had any reason to force him out of power like those others."

Opalbane gently stated. "You want his job."

Alessandre laughed and nodded. "Master Rogue Alessandre has an excellent ring to it, don't you think? And, I have to admit that I'd get a little something out of countless women in the Alliance referring to me as "Master." He joked, but Opalbane wasn't smiling. Her ominous frown had returned. Alessandre hastily cleared his throat. "It's what any really good rogue would want. Besides, I'm not the only one."

"Do you intend to kill him too, then?"

Alessandre shook his head. "The best way to become Master Rogue is through appointment, which mean Shadowstep should be allowed to live through his deposition. Right now, Myrielle Fadeleaf is Second Commander. But, if my career shines brightly enough, Master Rogue Shadowstep might pick over her and choose me. It's not so far off, you know. The way I see it, she and I have the strongest running, though many rogues have their eye on the position."

"Does this include Wisthera? I'm fairly sure she would kill for ambition. She's a bit unstable." Opalbane worried.

Alessandre smiled grimly. "Maybe, but she's upset far too many people for that. She'd have to silence all of those voices, and mine would be especially difficult to quell."

They lay together on the bed in silence as the light chatter of women grew in the hallway.

Opalbane looked on Alessandre lovingly, and he took her hand and kissed it.

"This woman rogue you mentioned… you slept with her didn't you?"

Alessandre nearly choked. "I didn't say that Moonlily."

"Don't give me a nickname unless you mean it, Alessandre." Opalbane flared.

"I did, but that was years ago… It hardly matters now."

"Just like you were a druid twenty years ago, but you'd have to be far older to know Master Rogues that preceded Shadowstep? How many lies are you telling me, Al?"

Master Rogue Shadowstep had been appointed seventy years ago. Everyone knew that. It was part of why people feared him. Perhaps for a priestess or druid that kind of lasting influence was expected, but rogues had such mortal existences, even before the World Tree was destroyed. Alessandre was mostly right about the way Master Rogues came into power, but it would take many lifetimes to understand something like that.

"I don't look my age, do I?" Alessandre smirked. It was a very handsome look, but Opalbane did not melt they way he expected her to. "No Moonlily, no. I can't tell you any more of my secrets. There is no one alive who knows how long I've been around, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Well, considering that I've never dated anyone at all, I can't say that I'm opposed to older men." Opalbane giggled.

"I thought I told you we can't do that." Alessandre said carefully.

"Oh, that must be why you keep sneaking into my room at night and kissing me, not to mention almost making love to me. How long do you think I'll put up with being jilted before your window of opportunity closes forever?"

Alessandre looked even more uncomfortable. He clearly hadn't considered that possibility.

"But you're bedridden?" he half whimpered.

"Maybe I'm not in the best of health, but I'm not easy, Alessandre. And the holidays have no power over me here, in my tiny cell with a bolt on the outside of the door, the windows sealed shut, manaburn candles, and a demonic rune under the bed." Then Opalbane lay on her side and kissed Alessandre's cheek. "What I am is willing, and waiting. You'd better hope I don't get bored while you make up your mischevious mind."


	9. Al loses shirts while Myrielle flirts

**Episode Nine: Al loses shirts while Myrielle flirts**

At midmorning, when priestesses were racing up and down the hallway to get ready for their early tasks and classes nextdoor within the Cathedral of Light, Alessandre decided it was time to reveal himself. Without much flourish, he simply got out of bed and stood outside. He wasn't fully clothed, but he had both his mithril rapier and dagger attached firmly to his belt. As always, his stash of throwing knives wasn't too far down his bootleg.

As expected, the priestesses raised a sufficient alarm at the handsome shirtless male elf who'd appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Alessandre observed idly that some other training school might not have sent immediately for the man in charge. A group of warlocks, for instance would have attempted to flay an intruder alive, a schoolhouse full of mages would humiliate him by turning him into various farm animals, warriors would have challenged him… no doubt that a bunch of female rogues would try to seduce him out of his weapons, armor, or get information from him instantly. Why would the head rogue need to know he was even there if Alessandre just cooperated with them? The way that people's class choices nearly always aligned with their personalities amused Alessandre.

Inevitably, Priest Benactus came storming down the hallway towards Opalbane's room. His holy shield was up and he held a thick tattered book humbly against his chest. He looked like a sacred prophet. With a flourish, Benactus raised his hand over his head as if her were exorcising Alessandre and said,

"Lecherer! Begone from this house of the Light! We have no use for your kind here. It is only the Light that compels me to send you away from this place without incident, because I know well that I should always forgive mine enemies."

Alessandre had been smoking his pipe steadily for the last hour. The hallway was hazy with it. He folded his arms across his purple chest impatiently and sighed.

"It took you long enough, Benactus. I may be a lecher, I'll give you that. But not with your Opalbane."

Benactus looked sideways at Alessandre, as if he guessed they shared some kind of secret. The ladies in the hallway had their holy shields up as well and cowered behind him at the tall dark-skinned stranger.

"If you wish to confess… please excuse me sir. My office is only down the hallway."

"Now that's just insulting to my race. I'm not one of your High Elf friends either." Alessandre took a long drag and blew it out as he lilted his head back. He didn't have to watch for Benactus' reaction. Alessandre already knew he'd got him.

"I know the difference between elves! I thought you might… What… do you want?" Benactus asked carefully.

"They call me Alessandre. I was sent here by Master Rogue Shadowstep of the Cenarion Enclave in Darnassus." All of Stormwind knew that High Priestess Tyrande was punishing Feathershine for the fiasco in the courts of Stormwind a month earlier, so Alessandre was careful to leave her name out of it. "I was hand-selected to protect Opalbane while she recovers here in Stormwind. I may not always be here, just before her door like I am right now," he said and took his pipe out of his mouth, "But that's the kind of work I do. I'm a rogue, so I'm sneaky… I may be around and you'll never know it. But where I am is not your business, do you understand? All you need to know is that I'm doing my job, which means I'm watching you and everyone else here. Well, except for the lovely ladies in this dormitory. I don't use my elite skills for mere peeping." Alessandre stifled a laugh. It's not like it didn't ever happen… but Benactus didn't need to know that. In fact, between two men that kind of thing was assumed.

"Why should I believe you? Opalbane, are you still in there? Are you alright?"

Gently, Opalbane's muffled beckoning could be heard beyond the door, and Alessandre opened it for her. Both men entered her room. At the last moment, Benactus urged the other priestesses to disperse.

"Priest Benactus, I see you've met my bodyguard. He arrived just this morning."

"Did he now?" Benactus clearly did not believe it.

"Oh yes, Benactus." Alessandre answered. "Unlike most Night Elves, I was also born just yesterday, and I have no intention of keeping any tabs on you whatsoever. But it's not like you don't have a choice in the matter. Darnassus doesn't want any kind of international incident… you are welcome to put me out, that is, if you don't mind Opalbane also sleeping in the street."

What else could Benactus say? Everything depended on Opalbane staying in his care.

"What do you want? Gold?"

Alessandre took another long drag of his pipe and then blew the white smoke in Benactus' face. "Oh, no, Benactus. I am going to have your hide. And you can tell all your little friends the same thing."

_Later that day, in front of SI: 7 in Old Town…_

"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice." Second Commander Myrielle Fadeleaf greeted her Human rogue contact as he entered the fort. SI: 7 stood out from the dingy wooden shops and taverns in the Old District. The brilliant limestone fortress not only boasted a wing for prominent officers in the Alliance army, but it was also a sophisticated command center for the Human rogue organization that headed Alliance intelligence. Located in Old Town, it could not be more convenient for Human spies. With elite soldiers relaxing just upstairs, it could not be any safer.

The dark haired man named Han shook Myrielle's hand, adding an exact amount of pressure that she recognized, then returned with a slight nod.

"I take it your investigation goes well? You must have some new information for us."

Myrielle looked over her shoulder and then lead the man upstairs to a private room. She softly closed the door.

"There were more murders last night." Myrielle began, "Clearly the work of a druid. Maybe he thought that no guards would ever go into Cutthroat Alley, and the temptation to kill without raising suspicion was too great."

"But you were there. You saw it all."

Myrielle sighed. "Yes. I was in the shadows—"

"You know who it is, don't you? Why are you holding back? Is this man—I noted that you said 'he'—some lover of yours? SI: 7 doesn't stand for such sloppy work, you know."

This is why Myrielle loved working with the Human rogues in SI: 7. They were better at reading people than she was, and kept it extremely professional. It was a relief from the salivating men in other rogue networks, and that clairvoyant savvy also kept her on her toes.

Myrielle pouted. It wasn't clear if she was being seductive, or if she was just frustrated. That is the way beautiful mouths work, afterall.

"I have no evidence. Without solid proof that this guy is some kind of freak, the man I'm thinking of can't be the one we're looking for."

Han grew impatient. "Stormwind has been generous with the Cenarion Enclave. We don't understand your druids, but we do trust High Priestess Tyrande. I'm starting to think that we're giving you all too much credit. It is taking too long to solve this. And, to top it off, the Master Rogue Shadowstep wants the Archdruid to order all the Night Elf druids to withdraw from the city… how can that possibly be a permanent solution? It won't catch the killer. All this seems like shoddy work to me."

Myrielle sighed. "I can't tell you why Shadowstep is doing it… but it's partly my suggestion." She relaxed and put her hand on her hip. "I'm almost certain that I have the guy pegged… but I just need evidence. I already made up some story about needing to observe his work so that I can get as close to him as possible without spooking him. I've been here for almost a month already but that's as far as I've been able to get, he's so damn hard to keep track of. Anyways, Han, you know that I can't hand anyone over to you until I'm sure." She pleaded.

"He's also one of your own, then isn't he? He must have some important friends if you're willing to risk the reputation of all the druids in the Alliance on this. And, Myrielle, I'm not fully convinced that you're going to just hand someone like that over to me like you're supposed to. I starting to see where your loyalties lie."

Myrielle slowly stalked the length of the room, her hips swaying gently. It caused her to bounce, and the Human man didn't miss it.

"That's not going to work on me Myrielle." He frowned. "Do I need to remind you that SI: 7 will take this investigation over completely if you can't deliver him? Shadowstep will not be happy about that, sweetheart."

"No… it may not work on you, but maybe on someone else." Myrielle said pensively. "I'd hate to lower myself to that again, but I'm starting to feel like there is no other way to do it."

"I don't know Myrielle. I don't know how you all do it over in Darnassus, but SI: 7 frowns on using seduction to get information. You know well enough that it can go both ways… it makes for volatile situations."

"This would be much easier if Shadowstep were a woman. Then the two of us could just have a nice gossip about the man I have in mind."

Han cocked his head to the side, curiously. "I'll ignore the sexual innuendo that I probably have no chance of understanding anyway. But, it looks like you're gunning for that job too, eh?"

"Who isn't?" Myrielle shrugged. "I think Mistress Rogue Myrielle sounds very sexy don't you? And I'd get a little something out of various men in the Alliance referring to me as their Mistress. So, can I get another week to finish this, Han honey?"

Han shook his head, but Myrielle coyly drew him into hug that was hardly friendly.

"Alright, fine." He grunted. "But any more extensions, and I'm sending you down to Willy's Secret for lingerie, and then I want a dance."

Myrielle threw her hands up in the air. "I'm surprised at you! That is very unprofessional. Though I shouldn't be shocked at your request. All they ever ask us to do is dance!"

"You mean, I could have had more?" Han teased her.

"Maybe but you'll never know, will you?" she joked. "This man's head will be on a platter for you by week's end." She finished authoritatively, and strutted out of the room on her knee-high red leather boots.

Author's note:

I have a forum! You can access it at the "My Forums" link on my Profile page. I created it because I thought it would be a fun way to get feedback on my fanfictions in The Romancer series. I'd also love to hear from anyone who roleplays in World of Warcraft. I might just be looking for a new RP guild, so please drop by if you know of any good ones!

Also, I'm new to forums, so please bear with me if it takes a while for things to get rolling. Happy Reading!


	10. Al loses Opal too

**Episode Ten: Al loses Opal**

Opalbane was not in her bed.

Instantly, Alessandre felt the urge to kill someone.

Cold sweat beaded on Alessandre's forehead. It also trickled down the back of his neck, to settle in a place between his shoulderblades. Irritated, he swept his hand back and lifted the voluminous wash of blue hair up out of the way. The warm stuffy air in the room hit it, but that was better than the heat his heavy hair always insulated back there.

Clenching his free hand into a fist in front of his face, Alessandre tried to think. He'd been gone for only one day since outing himself to Benactus. Since then he'd been stalking about the city only to realize he was being followed by someone. Alessandre hadn't been sure but his instinct told him that, the way it turned corners, the way it waited patiently but did not threaten… that the sneaky person was Myrielle. Even so, Alessandre wanted to lose his harmless stalker, and that took the better part of the day. As a result, Alessandre made no progress locating any other cultists yesterday.

And now he was back, as if he had a regular schedule and needed to check in every other morning… it was an old trick he used to force enemies that avoided him into a schedule he could predict. But none of that mattered now. In the last twenty four hours Opalbane had disappeared, and he had no idea how long she'd been gone or why.

Panic set in. Alessandre crawled on his knees and peered under the bed. She wasn't there. Just dustbunnies and that pulsating demonic rune drawn in cobalt blue chalk. Eerily, Alessandre got the distinct feeling of being watched. Another sense, so deeply rooted in him that it felt like instinct urged him to look away, because the drawing had another side to it… and someone else was looking at it, looking at him.

Alessandre scrambled back from under the bed.

Anger consumed the rogue. He grabbed the sheets in fists and whipped them off the bed. They landed somewhere behind him, ontop of the manaburn candles that oddly kept burning as if the sheets were a ghost that passed through them. Alessandre's hands shook when again, he found no one, nothing, not a clue of any kind, no evidence. The rage bubbled up inside of him, and he began to exhale powerful, angry breaths that made him shudder. Then he roared and tore up the entire room.

Someone should have heard. Someone should have been startled by all the noise and commotion, but no one came to see what it was. Alessandre sat in the mess of broken bed frame, rent sheets, upturned tables and snapped manaburn candles seething for what must have been an hour. That was when he heard whistling in the hallway.

It was priest Benactus. "Oh, I see that you have a guest, your door is open. How are you today, Opalbane? I don't have much time to change the demonic rune this morning, I have an important meeting—"

Benactus went pale when he saw Alessandre just sitting there amidst the chaos. The dark smoky blue chalk Benactus held in his hand slipped and shattered on the floor.

"What did you do—" Benactus accused.

Despite the apparent maelstrom, Alessandre spoke calmly. It was deeply unsettling. "I am going to kill you. And… you don't know me very well. I am going to enjoy it a great deal, I've been wanting to do it for a long time… open your mouth again, and tell me where she is, Benactus."

A vein in Benactus' neck tightened. "Where is she?" he asked.

"Wrong answer!" Alessandre roared again, and was up on his feet and ontop of the man in two strides. He seized Benactus' neck in one throbbing fist and raised him up off the floor.

Benactus clawed at Alessandre's constricting fingers, but to no avail. Perhaps if there were no manaburn candles, Alessandre would have missed his chance to live, but the reliable tiny blue flames flickered in unison all over the room when Benactus called on his mana, and it made Benactus cringe in pain. That he was trying to cast a spell became obvious. With good rogue instinct, Alessandre put Benactus down and kicked him hard.

"Want to see how enraged rogues deal with casters?" Alessandre flared, and grabbed fistfuls of Benactus' shirt. He slammed him on the ground, and Benactus winced.

"What did you do with her?" Alessandre demanded.

"Did you read her letters?" Benactus thought quickly.

Alessandre snarled at the man and let him go. He was so enraged that he'd forgotten to check the obvious.

"Let me go, Alessandre. I want to find her too!" the old priest cried. The rogue scowled at the other man.

"Fine, but I don't trust you." Alessandre said quickly and stabbed Benactus with a throwing knife from his boot. Benactus cringed and doubled over.

"Don't remove it. I know exactly where I put it, and only I can take it out safely. Now, which would you rather have, your kidneys split open or a mere flesh wound?"

Benactus carefully lay back down.

Now that Benactus was incapacitated, Alessandre turned his back on him and fetched the crinkled letters. They'd slipped out from where Opalbane was hiding them in her pillowcase.

Alessandre read all the things Opalbane had confided in her girlfriends. He was very disappointed to see that his old nemesis, Wisthera was one of them. At first, he was angry to see that she'd shared his secret past as a druid with the Human mage Willypearl, but as he read on about Opalbane's desperation and her obvious love for him, Alessandre felt compelled to forgive her. The curious thing about Opalbane was that she'd managed to maintain her innocence though her life had been terribly difficult. Opalbane had fallen prey to the Twilight Hammer cult, and before that she'd been a troubled shadowpriestess, and even before then, she was an angry and terrified girl who remembered the brutal murder of her parents by demons in Felwood. Alessandre hadn't admitted it, but Shadowstep ordered him to read all her previous correspondence with Willypearl and Wisthera as part of his briefing. It was important evidence in Opalbane's trial a few months ago, but also covered fifteen years of her life. Opalbane was in her twenties now. And this most recent letter was not some kind of attempt to barter in the secrets of his life. It was--and Alessandre almost laughed when he read it,--a set of instructions on how to get a man to like you.

It was very bad advice, at that.

"Benactus," Alessandre addressed the injured priest after he'd withdrawn the tiny dagger from his side. "After you heal yourself, go and speak with the guards. The letters say she planned to walk out of here late last night." Alessandre lied.

"What? But Opalbane can't walk in her condition. And, without her mana, she's defenseless!"

Alessandre nodded. "I know, but someone very selfish wanted her to try. And better for them if she emerged from the cathedral in exactly that state. Do you understand my meaning?"

Priest Benactus nodded.

"We may feel like enemies, but both of us want Opalbane back here safe and sound, don't we?" Benactus asked eagerly, and Alessandre felt sorry for the man. It was obvious now why Opalbane felt towards him the way a daughter would.

Alessandre patted Benactus amiably on the shoulder and urged him to hurry off while he searched; they'd meet again in an hour to share information. But as soon as the priest left, Alessandre muttered to himself, "Why is this always so easy? Never trust a man to read something for you, to think for you… " Then he opened the last letter Wisthera had sent to Opalbane and re-read his first clue to finding her:

_Play games with him, Opalbane. Find out what he likes, and then tempt him with that. You might disagree, but I'd be ruthless. I'd catch him completely off guard, offer him things that he should never have… I'd show him what he could have with me, and then make him think he was going to lose me forever…_

Alessandre groaned when he read that. So that was why Opalbane had asked him all those questions… and then she made a big deal over not being around forever. Today, she managed to disappear altogether. It was such bad advice. It was true that many men liked a good chase, but some men, like Alessandre hated to be teased. That was the tricky thing about giving advice on love, one was forced to generalize about people's unique hearts. Alessandre considered himself to be a man of action, and he wanted results. "I suppose that you would say elusiveness is one of my turn offs," he allowed himself to joke when it was clear that Opalbane hadn't been kidnapped.

Next was Willypearl's advice:

_Girl, you have to be yourself, first of all. Now, it sounds like your man is a helpless romantic from the list you sent me. Isn't that adorable! I really want to meet him once this works out… oh, now I am getting off topic. I think that deep down, Alessandre really wants to enjoy the Love is In the Air holiday. You complained about his 'easy women' comment, but I think he was just tryin' to enjoy the day like all those other couples do. It can be hard on a single person, you know? I'd get a friend to buy some love tokens for him, or maybe some cologne? Make sure there's some chocolate in there. Oh, and here's the most important part. Make sure to enjoy the treats with him. Make it into a date so that he feels special, whether or not he's expecting it. I think he'll like that kind of attention. _

Alessandre exhaled, disappointed. Now here was the opposite advice, though it was a bit more practical. These two women, especially Wisthera, were going to ruin poor Opalbane. Well, at least he could assume that Opalbane had listened to Wisthera because she wasn't in her room. So then, where did she go?

"So I'm a romantic deep down, eh? And I thought I was a hopeless lecher and womanizer…" Alessandre thought aloud. Then, it all became clear to him.

Opalbane was still in a lot of danger. There were many people in the city who knew her physical description, all of them desperate and hungry cutthroats. If Faltheriel ever dared venture into the Trade District, he may not hesitate to take her himself, if what Alessandre suspected about the Blood Elf's loyalty to the Burning Legion was correct. Finally, that Opalbane was weak without her mana, and recovering from an addiction to fel mana and alcohol made her a danger to herself. He had to get to her before someone else did. Or, before she got into trouble with Stormwind guards and attacked them like she did last time. That was why the authorities wanted Priestess Feathershine to capture her so badly, so that she could face justice for that embarrassing crime, in addition to betraying the Archmage.

Alessandre knew there was great danger in the rescue, but he couldn't help smiling. "All this to trick me into going on a date with her?"

Alessandre stealthed out of the dormitories and the Cathedral of Light. He chuckled to himself as he observed Priest Benactus grilling the cathedral guards frantically.

When he was free of the Cathedral, Alessandre began to sprint, then shifted into his fast travel form that resembled a cheetah and dashed to the Trade District. He loved being a fast little kitty. Once there, Alessandre shifted into cat form, cloaked and sneaked to a different spot before shifting back into his stealthed rogue form. Then, he decloaked. After searching the crowd for a few moments, he saw what looked like Opalbane, but wasn't sure.

The body was the same but it was wearing the sexiest dress he'd ever seen on a woman.

"That's from Willy's Secret." Alessandre gasped. He suddenly remembered the time he'd visited the store during Winter's Veil. Just like the shopkeeper had demonstrated, the dress caused a woman to look nearly naked when glimpsed in profile. Opalbane was no exception.

Like he'd observed the morning after the first night they spent together, Opalbane was no invalid. She was sick, but he didn't feel repelled by her. She was sultry but defiant. In that moment, Alessandre began to realize just who he was dealing with: an angry and powerful shadowpriestess who wanted him. It caused his legs to feel weak, and all of a sudden he was worried that he wasn't dressed well enough to be with her. Like a nervous teenager, Alessandre suddenly wanted to duck and hide, to go have his hair cut, to go change, or tell Priest Benactus she was there so that he wouldn't have to face the gorgeous woman alone.

But then, Opalbane saw him. Her long white braid slipped over her shoulder as she turned around slowly, and then came to rest between her breasts that throbbed as she moved slightly under the flimsy fabric. The dress was black, like the feral markings on her face. She raised a weak arm that trembled as she beckoned to him. Then, Opalbane collapsed.

"Opal!" Alessandre shouted and rushed over to her. A crowd gathered but Alessandre never got the chance to ask for help. Opalbane glowed funny colors as Paladin blessings of wisdom, mage buffs of arcane intellect, a druid's rejuvenation spell, and priests' blessings of fortitude were cast on her by everyone within range. Alessandre couldn't help but laughing.

"Is she alright?" someone in the crowd asked.

Alessandre smiled at his date. "Yes. Yes, she is. Thank you all." He said, raising his voice to everyone around him.

That is the beautiful thing about the Alliance. You can always count on helpful people and their buffs.

"You came!" Opalbane shuddered and hugged him.

A pang of fear filled Alessandre's heart. "Of course I did. If you wanted me to be yours for the Love is In the Air holiday… why didn't you just tell me? You could have been hurt coming out here!"

Alessandre took Opalbane's hand and helped her back onto her feet. She didn't say anything to answer his question. She let him continue holding her hand until he wasn't just supporting her, but holding her the way a lover would.

"Let's forget about secrets for today, Al. How much time did you buy from Benactus before this place is flooded with guards from the cathedral?"

"About an hour. Less now," he shrugged.

Opalbane urgently began to pull on his arm and lead him away. Alessandre stopped her. He knew there were enemies about, a war going on over this woman though he wasn't sure why. Demons were on one side, and old gods were on the other. Darnassus was someplace in the middle. This was no time to indulge…

But then Alessandre recalled how it felt only a few minutes ago when he thought Opalbane was truly gone.

"Whatever your heart desires, Moonlily." Alessandre kissed Opalbane's hand and they walked off into the festive crowd.


	11. Worst heart's day ever!

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Eleven: Worst... Heart's... day... ever!**

Finally, the lively music, the loud laughing people, and all the couples got to Alessandre. Through his drunken haze, he wasn't exactly sure if he was in his usual cathouse for Love is in the Air day, or in a more modest tavern with an actual date. It was too good to be true. He pressed Opalbane up against a wall and grabbed her ass.

"Hi pretty lady." he smiled.

Opalbane looked shocked for a moment, but it was very brief. She wrapped her arms around Alessandre's neck and hugged him tighter against her. "Shtop sayin' that Al," she hiccuped and moaned against him when he kissed her.

"Hey, you two! Get a room!" some human shouted and nudged Alessandre hard in the shoulder. Alessandre was too absorbed in his date to turn around. He didn't see the human man's eyes bulge when he looked at Opalbane's face. Then the guy rushed out of the bar eagerly.

"Why did I give you wine?" Alessandre started laughing and kissed Opalbane again. The loud music roared over their conversation and many others in the tavern.

When he was done, Opalbane came up for air and said, "Because I ashked you nicely. Plush you forget that we aren't in my room. No manaburn candles, so I can really get to you." Opalbane smiled at Alessandre's dazed expression and kissed him hard.

Opalbane was a different woman now. She was in a breathtaking black dress, standing on her own stable two feet–well, the alcohol didn't help exactly, but still she was mostly standing–and she was using her powers freely. Alessandre felt her slip in and out of his mind as she read what he wanted at whim, but Alessandre didn't object to the invasion of privacy. The capable shadowpriestess got him more wine whenever he needed it, and as a result, he'd probably drunk far more than he would have normally. And, she also used it to guess his desires as well.

"Oh, you have a very dirty mind, Alessandre. But we can't do that here, up against the wall." Opalbane observed coyly.

Alessandre flushed a dark grape color. "You weren't supposed to see that." he admitted. "Besides... we really can't."

Opalbane raised a disappointed eyebrow and blushed a rose color. "Did I ever tell you that I'm an alchemist? It's just a little hobby of mine, but I gleaned every corner of Azeroth for the rarest potions... I can make you something if you have a problem... you know, because of your little accident in Silithus?"

"Shh," Alessandre squinted his eyes shut and shook his head at her. "Tha's a secret, Moonlily. Shh."

"Oh, right." Opalbane giggled.

"Besides, I don't have any problems like that. Actually, since then I've gotten better. Waaay better. Oh, man I wish I could show you."

Opalbane smiled. Someone at the bar across the room just got engaged and the barkeep led everyone nearby in a cheerful toast.

"You could shhhow me." Opalbane tried not to slur her speech but she was failing. How long had they been drinking? She'd left for the Trade District this morning, she could see through the curtained window that the sun was setting.

Alessandre kissed Opalbane some more. The heat between them was intense, and Opalbane almost thought she heard him purring... but she was probably just drinking too much and imagined it. He pressed her harder against the wall. He was taller than her and didn't realize his own strength at the moment. Opalbane slid up along the wall, off her feet a few inches.

Alessandre let his hand slide down Opalbane's backside and under her thigh, and began to lift her leg around up over his hip...

"No." Alessandre exhaled a tortured breath and backed away from the excited drunk shadowpriestess.

"What?" Opalbane challenged. She started to sound angry.

"I said no... I'm sorry Moonlily. I can't do this to you, to the mission. I mean, I want to, but I just can't do it to you this way. Not after what I went through today. You see, I almost lost you and I didn't realize how strongly I felt–"

"You bastard!" Opalbane screamed at Alessandre and pushed him hard into the middle of the room. Some people nearby looked around.

"Why can't you sleep with me?" Opalbane shouted. Everyone in the bar got quiet.

Alessandre blinked through his drunk haze, trying to understand what was going on. What happened to the gentle priestess he was feeling up a little while ago?

Then Opalbane looked around herself, presumably for her drink and couldn't find it. She tried to grab for one, and it clearly didn't matter that it wasn't hers, but its owner guarded it jealously. Then, Opalbane's eyes got wide and she pressed two fingers on both hands against her temples.

"Riiight, she's a shadowpriestess." Alessandre suddenly remembered aloud.

The person blinked, as if they were seeing Opalbane for the first timeand then generously handed her their drink. Mind Control is a powerful spell.

Glass in hand, Opalbane took a step towards Alessandre, and began to pitch the contents at him, but then she stopped. She drained the glass.

"Oh, yea, and she's also an alcoholic." Alessandre recalled to himself just in time before Opalbane finished the cup of whatever it was and threw the empty glass at his head. She had amazing aim for a clothie.

Alessandre had more than enough agility to dodge eventhough he hadn't really been ready for it.

"Why do you keep teasing me? Do you think this is some kind of game? I love you dammit!" Opalbane stole another drink, this time it was surrendered easily by a frightened patron. She attempted to throw the contents in Alessandre's face again, but then, as if she'd already forgotten what she just did to the previous glass, Opalbane took the time to decide whether or not it was worth wasting the alcohol. Of course, she chose exactly the same way she did before and then threw the empty glass at Alessandre a second time.

"You... love... me?" Alessandre whimpered, surprised. He looked grateful at first, but then the drained glass zipped past his head, and looked terrified.

"Yes, you stupid, stupid man. I love you so much! I'm going crazy trying to get you to just... just like me. I even got Willypearl to give me this dress. She wanted me to give you some red underwear too, but that really creeped me out, so I said no, and–"

"Oh, thank Elune you didn't." Alessandre interrupted her, remembering the nasty trick he played on Wisthera and her boyfriend involving red underwear from Willy's Secret during Winter's Veil. Another heavy glass whipped past his head.

"Umm, Moonlily, maybe you should just calm down–"

"I AM CALM!" Opalbane thundered, and her shadowform flared up. "Why do you keep rejecting me? You sleep with everyone else. Do I have to beg you to like me? Is it so horrible that I wish you would just finish what you started? What in the Legion is wrong with you, you STUPID IDIOT!"

"Hey, keep her quiet, or else I have to throw you both out." the barkeeper warned. Then he added in a cocky tone, "I would have done it sooner, but a hot Night Elf chick in a see-through dress like that yelling for some guy to do her is pretty hot."

"Yea, good entertainment." some other guy at the bar added, and Alessandre shot them a 'Yea, you know I'm the man' proud smile.

But his 'I got it like that' look didn't last very long. He tried to walk back over and calm Opalbane down but then she thrust open her palm and electric blue power leapt through the air like lightning from her hand to Alessandre's chest. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground in pain.

"Dear goddess!" he complained aloud. "She's flaying my mind... and I think I like it." A sick smile stretched on his face.

Opalbane scowled. Alessandre recognized that face. It was the same deadly anger that used to sizzle in her sultry features before he went to her during Winter's Veil. That was when Alessandre realized the truth in Opalbane's words. She really had changed a lot since he intervened that night. Had he changed too? How did he feel about her?

But Alessandre never got the chance to even think it.

"I'm Priest Faltheriel." the Blood Elf entered the tavern then and bowed before Opalbane. His eyes were no longer green. Opalbane had raised her arms above her head, reading a painful Mind Blast spell to cast on her disappointing date, but Faltheriel thrust his pale hand out and silenced the shadowpriestess.

Opalbane turned on him in angry shock. Her shadowform flared. Alessandre saw Faltheriel, and tried to get back up, but the Mind Flay had drained more from Alessandre faster than he thought Opalbane was capable of. The petite woman really could have killed him if she wanted. And that got Alessandre eerily excited, which was even more distracting to him in this situation.

"Now then, I think we can have a normal conversation. If you want that unworthy cutthroat dead, I have plenty of friends who can take care of him for you. But... as for your other needs, I think you'll find that since the Sundering, the Highborne always have been... how shall I put this? _Better _men. Why don't you come with me, Bloodthistle."

Alessandre thought he was going to be sick. "Hey, you jackass! Don't talk to my girlfriend like that." Alessandre realized that he just called Opalbane his girlfriend. Was that true?

Faltheriel took a step in Alessandre's direction and was going to say something smart assed to him too when the Blood Elf's hands began to tremble. Alessandre recognized it as the same uncontrollable shaking he'd observed in the Blood Elf when he had him cornered in the house in Cutthroat Alley.

"That sexy mana again..." Faltheriel muttered to himself and began to search the room with hungry eyes. "_Who_ are you, dammit! I can't take being teased like this anymore!" then he began to inhale ragged breaths and looked desperate. For a brief instant, Alessandre thought he could see the man's blue eyes flash to green. Then, Alessandre repeated to himself again, _It's just an addiction... by Elune, it can't have anything to do with me personally, can it?_ It occurred to Alessandre then that he didn't know which was worse, a Blood Elf hitting on him personally, or a Blood Elf hitting on his leftover mana.

Opalbane's eyes went wide. She shuddered at Faltheriel from under her shadow form.

"Alright, now all of you freaks had better leave my tavern!" the barkeeper threatened. Faltheriel stopped midstep and snarled at the man, like a rabid dog.

"No one is going anywhere with my charge."

Everyone in the tavern turned at the voice. Priest Benactus entered the room with twenty armored guard from the Cathedral of Light. Alessandre silently thanked Elune that the Stormwind Guard wasn't among them, or else the authorities would get involved, and who knows what powerful people in Stormwind might hear about it? And then, Shadowstep knew some of those people and would not be happy to hear that one of his agents slipped up.

At the sound of Priest Benactus' voice, Faltheriel straightened up instantly. He cleared his throat and composed himself.

"Thank goodness I found her, Priest Benactus. This _rogue_ was giving her a hard time." Faltheriel's hands trembled when he pointed accusingly at Alessandre, and he had to make himself stop. The Blood Elf carefully folded his hands behind his back. Alessandre tried not to meet the other Elf's eyes.

When Priest Benactus approached Opalbane, she dropped her shadowform instantly and began to cry. "Daddy. I was so scared," she started to say, and let Benactus hug her. Alessandre panicked. The affects of his drink were replaced by raw fear. Opalbane had reverted so far to her old self without the demonic rune and manaburn candles in the last few hours. And he'd let her have a drink! Alessandre wanted to smack himself on the forehead. He now understood that Benactus had kept Opalbane locked up in her cell-like room for a good reason. Just whose side was he on?

"Thank you, Faltheriel. Gentlemen." Priest Benactus nodded at both the Blood Elf and the handsome Night Elf rogue in one gesture and nodded for both to join he and Opalbane outside. Alessandre wondered how in Azeroth he was going to get out of this one.

The bar was as quiet as death when the three of them and the guards left.

"Benactus, I'm sorry, I–"

"Not here." Benactus warned Alessandre, cutting him off. He sounded very angry.

They all walked under the heavy guard to the Cathedral of Light. Alessandre worried about his fate as Opalbane snuggled in closer under Benactus' protective arm. Had she really reverted to her cultist self again? Would she defend Alessandre before Benactus if it came to that? Faltheriel kept inching closer and closer to Alessandre, and the Night Elf tried his best to walk near Opalbane as they went along. He hoped that Faltheriel would assume it was Opalbane's mana he was sensing, and not try to jump on him.

"Hey, do you want to go somewhere after this?" Faltheriel quietly asked Alessandre. The poor gorgeous Night Elf rogue threw up a little bit in his mouth, then politely said No.


	12. Myrielle finds her kitty in a cathouse

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Twelve: Myrielle finds her kitty in a cathouse**

Benactus did not say a word to either man until he had seen to Opalbane getting dressed properly and back into her room safely. He sent a Cathedral Guard to stand in front of her door and warned the novice priestesses to be on guard. Then, he met Faltheriel and Alessandre in his office.

"Opalbane had a bodyguard and you didn't tell me?" Faltheriel flared.

Alessandre was surprised that Benactus had kept it to himself too. He wasn't surprised that Faltheriel had read his mind while they were waiting for Benactus. The whole time they were alone, Alessandre kept trying to think of something simple like sheep, but the strange Elf had gotten through anyway.

Benactus motioned for Faltheriel to calm down. "I've been busy." Benactus lied and then said, "Besides, Alessandre is on our side, so there's nothing to worry about."

"You mean–"

"I want to make sure that Opalbane stays safe from her enemies in Stormwind. I was assigned to do so by Master Rogue Shadowstep of the Cenarion Enclave in Darnassus." Alessandre rattled off quickly before Faltheriel could do something stupid and reveal his connection to Benactus. It was a connection that Benactus already knew Alessandre was aware of, but if Faltheriel learned that too, it would make it too obvious who had been spying on them in this very room earlier in the week. Being a spy meant that sometimes, you had to manipulate information from both sides.

"But I don't trust you anymore, Alessandre."

Alessandre balked. He got up from his chair immediately, but Benactus shot him a dangerous look that made him want to sit back down.

"You lied to me. You told me that Opalbane went missing when you had the true information about her. How else could you have spent all day with her like that? Thank goodness I alerted some of the priests here. A young man I knew well said he'd do anything to help me, and spent all day searching Stormwind on my behalf."

"What's his name?" Alessandre calmly asked, as if it didn't mean anything.

"Why would he tell you?" Faltheriel challenged in his superior tone. Alessandre grimaced. He hoped that Faltheriel wasn't bitter about being turned down after he asked Alessandre on a date. Which, by the way, Alessandre was glad for, because though good-looking, Faltheriel was really very annoying. Faltheriel wasn't even worth it by male Elf standards.

"Thank you for coming to my defense, Faltheriel, but I can handle this myself." Benactus raised a hand for silence. "Alessandre, please tell me what really happened this morning, before I make up my mind about you."

"What in the hell does that mean? I work for Darnassus, remember? You can't fire me."

Benactus sighed. "No, but I refuse to believe that I can't at least have you replaced if I think you are toying with Opalbane's honor. I don't think her foster mother would approve of that, and I do care about what her family thinks."

"He tried to sleep with her! Oh, he must be replaced, indeed. Get a woman rogue from Darnassus!" Faltheriel eagerly put in.

Alessandre wanted to kill that brown-nosing, can't-take-rejection-like-a-man Blood Elf.

"It's not like that, gentlemen." Alessandre tried to explain. A thousand different lies flew through his head, but it occurred to him that neither priest would be fooled by a lie. He had to tell the truth. Alessandre felt like he was in a Darnassian trial, with two priests breathing down his neck. "The truth is that Opalbane likes me. In fact she's in love with me."

"Is that because you broke into her room on the Eve of Winter's Veil and slept with her? Is our Opalbane still a virgin?" Benactus' tone got threatening and Faltheriel looked astounded. He hadn't know about any of this. It was interesting that they kept so many secrets from each other, yet they were supposed to be cohorts, Alessandre realized.

"No. I didn't sleep with her."

"My novices tell me that you are in her room at other times as well, though they don't see you come in."

Alessandre hesitated before answering. "That's not true."

"Forget about that for a moment, Alessandre." Benactus folded his hands over papers on his desk and leaned forward. "What is really important here is that you ran off with my Opalbane. You weren't holding her for her own protection, or fighting off her attackers during all those unaccounted for hours. My man tells me that you were groping her in a Tavern in the Trade District. The scene he described to me..." and Benactus grimaced as he recalled it. Faltheriel read Benactus' mind and scowled too. "Was not decent. And I don't think you are fit for this assignment. In fact, you have been pursuing her maidenhead so slyly, I think you've been baiting her all this time. You planned her disappearance today. Am I right?"

Benactus was especially frightening when he played father to Opalbane.

"No... her letters were from friends that were giving her romantic advice. It might sound silly, but Opalbane actually loves me," Alessandre couldn't help smiling as he said it. "And she felt unsure of herself. But the friends who tried to help her were dead wrong. They are the ones who told her to run off to the Trade District, to buy me chocolate and wear that black dress. I could have never convinced her to–"

"Who are these friends?"

"Willypearl, a human mage living just outside Stormwind, and a Kaldorei rogue named Wisthera."

"And they told her to do this in these exact terms? Can you show me where she's being instructed in the letters?"

The letters were not that specific, nor could Alessandre risk revealing anything about his past to these men, especially Faltheriel. Faltheriel was pouting at Alessandre at the moment.

"I can't."

"Let me correct you, rogue. You won't, because the letters do not exist. Her actual correspondence says nothing of the sort."

Alessandre stammered, reaching for what to say, but he couldn't think of anything. For once in his life, he'd told the truth, and this is where it got him?

Alessandre sat back down, stymied. This was all happening too fast.

"Oh, don't bother getting comfortable Alessandre. I want you out of here."

"What?"

"Tonight, I am going to assemble the evidence I have against you and demand that Darnassus send a replacement if they want to avoid an international incident. As usual in these circumstances, a copy will be sent to High Priestess Tyrande as well as Master Rogue Shadowstep and Opalbane's foster mother Priestess Feathershine."

Alessandre left off being surprised when he realized whom he was dealing with. Benactus had him fooled. He'd had everyone fooled. The old priest let on that he was weak and helpless to defend himself against Alessandre, but really he was just biding his time until he had more evidence against the rogue than a brief, and perhaps mistaken glance of the naked Alessandre lying on Opalbane's bed on the morning of Winter's Veil. Faltheriel gazed at his supposed mentor with exaggerated adoration.

Alessandre briefly considered killing both of them in that instant, but he calmed himself down. It might not only be incredibly dangerous, but incredibly stupid. Shadowstep might eventually learn that he failed his mission, but he could never know that Alessandre was in truth, a volatile murderer.

"Fine. You played my game, and you won. You got me. I'll go say goodbye to her and get out of your hair." Alessandre shrugged it off, but he felt horrible inside. He began to wonder how he would explain this to Opalbane, or even if she was still enough of the loving person she'd become after Winter's Veil to understand that he meant her no harm.

"Oh no, _Al_" Benactus mocked. "There will be no more contact between you and our precious Opalbane. You can leave, and you can rot." Benactus' fair tone turned cruel.

This shook Alessandre to the core. The one time he'd given into his feelings for Opalbane, he'd lost everything, absolutely everything. The result was that Myrielle had been right about him. Of course he'd foul this up over a woman. Just like he'd messed up his entire life over one a few thousand years ago. Nothing about him ever really changed, no matter how much he hoped or prayed to Elune that it would. It would be better if he were dead.

"Starting to wish you'd said yes to me, aren't you? I might still be able to help you out, you know... if you change your mind." Faltheriel arrogantly spoke up. Benactus furrowed his brow in confusion.

Alessandre cocked his head to the side and looked at Faltheriel like he'd lost his mind. "Your people really _have_ been out in the sun too long." Alessandre said and shook his head in disbelief.

_Later in a cathouse in Old Town..._

Alessandre finished off is eighth bottle of bad wine and slumped back in his chair. The beautiful human woman dancing on his table was half naked, but it didn't make up for anything at all. There was only one woman Alessandre wanted, and it had taken this entire day for him to understand that. How many times had Opalbane tried to help him? How many times had she begged him to trust her. Never had he met a woman who actually wanted to help, not just spend the night with him. All Opalbane wanted from him in return is for him to save her, to keep her safe. And now, his reputation as a rogue was finally ruined. Shadowstep would have his head, and he could never go near Opalbane again. The wine kept telling Alessandre these things as he drank more and more of it.

Finally, even those thoughts were too much. Alessandre slammed his heel into the table, and the woman nearly slipped and fell off of it. The bartender noticed the signal and sent another round over to him. The Matron of the house got the signal too, and walked over, swinging a furry pink boa over her shoulder as she walked.

The stout dwarven woman looked up at Alessandre under an elaborate braided hairdo. "What you want this time, honey? You already went through all the races I've got: Human, Dwarf, Gnome, even a few confused Draenei ladies I tricked into working here just last week. Not every cathouse in Stormwind has that kind of a selection. Now, unless you actually pick one of my girls, all I can do is keep sendin' the same to dance for you ones over and over. You gonna finally pay me or what?"

Alessandre squinted his eyes at her angrily. Her jugular vein kept leaping out at him as she spoke. He began to wonder if Cutthroat Alley would mind his company right about now... he was screwed now, anyway right? So what if the Stormwind Guard caught him on a killing spree and threw him in the Stockades? He'd just enjoy killing the other prisoners, next, wouldn't he? And then they could hang him and end this nearly immortal torment he once called a life.

That's when she walked into the room, and Alessandre felt his heart melt.

"Al," Myrielle said and strutted right up to him. Alessandre wasn't sure, but he didn't ever remember her wearing leather shorts that... well, short. Her long red leather boots ended mid thigh, and she had tied the ends of a red swashbuckler's shirt high up under her boobs, which was strange, because those open shirts were already revealing to begin with. It seemed that she'd altered it for the occasion.

"Al, sweetheart, you don't want to be in a place like this, do you?"

Alessandre wanted to tell Myrielle to go away, but didn't.

"Come with me, be my lion again tonight. I want you." She bent down and let Alessandre look her over. Then, she kissed him with her perfect luscious lips.

"Do you want to work here? I'll hire you right now! I can never get any Night Elf women." The dwarven Matron pushed imbetween them.

Myrielle scowled at the short woman. She must have showed her tiny fangs because the dwarf jumped back a step and then left them alone.

Myrielle slammed a fistful of gold on the table and then yanked Alessandre up by his shirt collar. "Let's do this." she slapped his face playfully, then dragged him off behind her.

Alessandre thought of Opalbane. He couldn't stop thinking about her the entire time he was with Myrielle. When they were nearly done and he called out the other woman's name, Myrielle didn't seem to mind.

"I guess you didn't get to screw her afterall." Myrielle observed cruelly afterward, and smiled at her accurate prediction. Alessandre growled at Myrielle, sounding exactly like a nightsaber, and angrily mounted her again.

Alessandre continued over and over all night until the sun came up. Myrielle gazed at the window then and realized that it was the last day of the week. She'd gotten her evidence just in time.


	13. Kicking the habit of ganking

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Thirteen: Kicking the habit... of ganking**

"So, should I pay you for your services, or what?" Myrielle teased Alessandre when he finally woke up. Alessandre squinted up at the Night Elf face that wasn't the woman he'd dreamed about.

"Uggh," he moaned.

"Actually, you should be paying me. I paid your tab last night at that cathouse."

"I went to a cathouse?" Alessandre asked groggily.

"Yes, and a bad one at that. I bailed your ass out, don't you remember?"

Alessandre shook his head that he didn't.

Myrielle pulled the covers up over her large chest and then snuggled up next to Alessandre. He was too tired to move away.

"Why did you growl at me last night?"

"Sometimes I do that when I'm mad. I can't help it." Alessandre responded drowsily.

Myrielle couldn't resist stroking his long blue hair while he rested. Male elves had an annoying tendency to have better hair than you did at the worst moments.

"Do you purr too?" Myrielle asked carefully.

"Unnhuh." Alessandre moaned. "Ugh, my head hurts so much. What was I drinking."

"Your stupid wine, as usual. So, what does it feel like to have fur? I bet it feels wonderful... don't you want to show me?"

Alessandre rolled over onto his stomach. He started to snore.

"Al? Al?" Myrielle started poking him, but Alessandre wouldn't budge. Finally, she screamed at him and he came alive.

"Ow! Goddess! What the hell are you doing?"

Myrielle seized Alessandre's chin firmly in her graceful fingers and made him look into her eyes. Then, she said as calmly as possible, careful to enunciate every word: "I want to rub my naked body all over your excellent purple fur. Now change, so I can do it!"

Alessandre's shining yellow pupils rolled to the back of his head, and he passed out.

"Dammit!" Myrielle swore loudly and turned around so she could slam her fist into the wooden headboard.

_Later that day at SI: 7..._

The rogue called Han sighed heavily. "Not only does your story not make any sense whatsoever, your evidence isn't good enough."

"What do you mean it's not good enough!" Myrielle flared. "I dressed up like a whore, I went to the nastiest cathouse in Stormwind... I slept with my prick of an ex-boyfriend who almost ruined my life... and what I told you wasn't good enough?"

"Look sweetheart," Han crossed his arms tightly against his chest. "I might growl like a nightsaber too, if a pretty woman asked me. Hell, I'd bark like a dog, I've actually jumped into the Great Forge in Ironforge once for a woman as beautiful as yourself. I don't see why that makes this Alessandre a feral druid, as well as a rogue."

"But he is! I don't know how he got that way... I've never heard of anyone changing their class. But I just _know_. A man may have been making love to me last night, but he didn't _feel_ like a man. And this isn't the first time! Back when we were dating, one time Al–"

"Al this, Al that." Han mocked in a lady's high pitched voice. "I get so tired of these rumors buzzing around SI: 7. He's not even in our organization, but he's the most talked about rogue within these walls. You know, I've missed out on a lot of good dates because of that gifted sonofabitch."

"Han, that's pretty mean." Myrielle gasped.

"Now you're defending him! Geez! A man can't catch a break..." Han trailed off then. "Well, actually, I think I do get a nice break out of this." Han placed a gold coin in Myrielle's hand. "You know what to do." the human rogue smiled wickedly.

Myrielle groaned. Now, she had to go down to Willy's Secret and plan a lap dance for Han. And, if she had learned anything about SI: 7 during her many years with them, Han was probably going to turn it into a community event, to keep from offending any of his comrades. The humans were sometimes, overly fair.

"This... has got to be... the MOST demeaning day of my life." Myrielle groaned as she headed down to recently popular lingerie store.

_Later in Cutthroat Alley..._

Alessandre hadn't waited for Myrielle to come back that morning. He simply took a handful of gold, because he didn't really have any money of his own after last night, and stealthed out of the apartment she kept in Old Town. Alessandre tried to remember if he said anything significant to Myrielle last night. Of course, through his blaring headache, he didn't remember anything at all. But that old nagging frustration in his loins was long gone, and he was sure what that meant. Alessandre didn't want to think about what sleeping with Myrielle meant for Opalbane and himself. That is, if he ever saw Opalbane again.

But just in case he had said anything incriminating, Alessandre headed to the one place any rogue could go if he needed to lay low, and fit in no matter what: Cutthroat Alley. Nor had Alessandre exactly banished the notion that he could start ganking people again if he got bored.

That's what the murders were, really, an addiction to ganking people. Alessandre had begun to accept that about himself.

Night fell, and Alessandre was sleeping on his old rooftop in cat form to pass the time. Catnaps were the best. But as the sun set it got very cold up there, and it forced him awake. He opened his bright yellow eyes just in time to notice that the old meeting house was bustling with activity. Alessandre stealthed and went to investigate.

Silently, he slipped through the small spaces imbetween people's long legs to get through the crowd. Alessandre thought he recognized some faces, but in his catform he couldn't think very clearly and wasn't entirely sure. His furry little head was better at thinking about how to kill things lightning fast, but not figuring out the why. That was more of a rogue's job.

One face, however, meant a great deal to Alessandre no matter what form he was in: Priest Faltheriel.

"Gentlemen. I am so happy to see you assemble here at such short notice. Max, can you keep them quiet please?"

_Max dies, Faltheriel dies, Benactus dies... _Alessandre resumed his mental list in the deep recesses of his feral consciousness.

Just as he had before, Max threatened the room for silence and he got it.

"You all remember the rules don't you?" All around the room, the thugs nodded. "Well, forget them. I'm going to confess a little something to you all me and my doings. It's not really a big secret. You may even be familiar with my little problem. My cohort, Priest Benactus, doesn't trust me at all." Faltheriel frowned pitifully, like a two year old. Alessandre really wished Faltheriel wouldn't speak in that mock baby voice. It made the fact that Faltheriel had wanted to be intimate with him–and might have used that very voice in the act–nearly unbearable. "Benactus has kept many secrets from me, and I watched him be so bold as to shun an official from Darnassus. I underestimated the priest, and I have a strong feeling that Benactus is coming after me next." Faltheriel sighed and began to pace. "But my objective still remains. I need the girl Opalbane!"

Faltheriel paused dramatically. "That's where you all come in. You see, my superiors are different from Benactus' bosses. They don't want Opalbane unmarked, or as a virgin, or even sober. They just want her alive. Can you boys do that for me?"

Men all around the room erupted into a wild frenzy. Arguments over who would get Opalbane first started anew. Alessandre couldn't believe what he was hearing. Not only had Benactus outsmarted him, he'd outdone Faltheriel as well. Clearly, Faltheriel was an agent of the Burning Legion, and Benactus had figured it out before Alessandre had.

"Hush now, boys." Faltheriel urged coyly. Alessandre shuddered. "This is the only catch. I need for you to go right now. Get all your little weapons and go immediately. My associate is already onto me, I'm afraid, and I need to strike as soon as possible. Before, I feared that if ths failed at all, I might need to keep my cover as Twilight Cultist so we had to keep to the rules. Now, it's time to be completely ruthless." Then, Faltheriel actually rubbed his hands together the way phony evil villains did. What was wrong with this guy? He was trying way too hard.

_Everyone in this room dies, Faltheriel dies... twice. _Alessandre was getting sick just thinking about having to touch the Blood Elf again.

"Alright, you have your orders. My carriage will be parked just outside the blacksmith in Goldshire. I'm sure all of you have been there at some point in your lives. When you're done with her, bring her to me. Now remember, anything goes if it will encourage you to get the job done faster, but don't kill her."

This was a disaster. Alessandre shifted out of his catform and remained stealthed, listening to men going on cheerfully about all the horrible things they were going to do to the woman he loved. The rage inside of Alessandre built. He had been outsmarted by Priest Benactus, someone who had Opalbane's heart but was unworthy of it, and by that silly prancing male Elf Faltheriel... only his revulsion for the Blood Elf kept Alessandre from leaping on the delicate man as he departed from the meeting house. Later... later he would get the stomach to kill him.

While stealthed, Alessandre shifted back into his normal form and sneaked out of the house. Alessandre knew that he had to go to Opalbane, no matter what kind of case Benactus was building against him. It occurred to Alessandre then that Benactus' show of strength in the office was mostly just that, a good threat. Benactus couldn't physically prevent Alessandre from protecting Opalbane and he knew it. The best the old priest could do was play mind games with Alessandre and try to convince him to stay away. The truth was, Alessandre had a choice, he'd always had a choice. This mission was no longer about Priestess Feathershine or Shadowstep. It was no longer about doing a better job than Myrielle. Nor was it about finally saving face as a rogue after Wisthera had ruined him back in Thelsamar several months ago. It was about Opalbane. Alessandre could still save her, even with a ruined reputation. It was a great risk but to a rogue life was risk, wasn't it? Maybe Opalbane might reject him, but what was more important was that Alessandre kept his promise to Opalbane: that he kept her safe and that she lived.

Alessandre cursed himself for giving into self doubt and despair before... but that was just how good Benactus was. The old shadowpriest had been keeping all kinds of dark secrets all these years and he worked in the Cathedral of Light. It was the oldest trick in the book really, allowing your enemy to underestimate you.

"Hey, I hear that those purple chicks are immortal. Think we can stab her a couple times?" One of the rogues asked his friends in the alley outside.

Alessandre froze. He took slow, patient breaths. He told himself over and over again that he was no murderer; he didn't have to be if he just tried to control himself. Getting to Opalbane right now was more important. Alessandre began to wonder if his dark addiction to hunting people made him sound just as crazy as these men. Hunting men had been a fetish for him too, for thousands of years... now he felt disgusted with himself.

"Oh! I hear that if you cut a limb off it grows back? Anyone dare me to do it?"

"No you idiot, that's Trolls. Elves can't do that."

"But I hear that Elves is related to Trolls. I bet ya if I do it, it'll grow right back. Who's gonna bet?"

"I'll put a gold on that."

"No, I'll bet five gold that it doesn't work." and they kept laughing and going on and on about doing terrible things to Opalbane until Alessandre couldn't take it anymore.

"Die!" he half growled at the speaker and ambushed him from behind. It was a one shot and the guy fell over dead. Before anyone could see him, Alessandre shifted quickly into his bear form.

The other rogues scrambled. Some were able to drop into stealth.

"It's that druid again!" someone shouted, and all the cutthroats from the meeting rushed Alessandre at once. Ever a good feral druid, Alessandre used his bear form to handle the mob.

They tore at him with their daggers, but Alessandre had more life and armor in his bear form and was able to endure a lot of the attacks. He let himself fill up with rage, and tore right through people. Men died in great numbers, and Alessandre the murderer should have enjoyed it, but he did not. Alessandre was terrified that if he didn't get himself out of this mess, there would be no one to warn Opalbane.

Alessandre learned a long time ago, after he was kicked out of Silithus and stripped of his rank, that he could not heal himself. For some reason, his mana was tainted and he could only use for one thing. It was the one thing his feral druid mana was meant for at very moment that his lost love shot him with the mysterious fel shadow power: shift.

Any normal druid would have shifted out and stunned his attackers, healed himself many times by now. That was impossible for the handsome Night Elf rogue. It was far too dangerous to risk, but at the last moment, Alessandre shifted back into his rogue form and vanished. He was surprised at how much life he had left. It wasn't very much at all. Bandaging took one out of stealth and so did taking a healing potion or eating. Alessandre had to risk it. He drank the healing potion he always kept in his breast pocket, just in case.

As soon as Alessandre was knocked out of stealth by the potion, the rogues fell on him fast. He tried to shift back into his feral form and restealth, but the rogues had already engaged him in combat. He went back to his bear form immediately, to reduce the damage but more rogues were coming into the alley from the house. Alessandre could not hold them off. If he kept killing them, he was going to die.

Unless he made the right choice.

Alessandre thought quickly and charged a man who was running out of the only exit and entrance to Cutthroat Alley. The fast charge helped Alessandre to get distance from his attackers. Once freed, Alessandre raced out of the alley and into the street outside. As soon as he had a scrap of a lead, Alessandre shifted into his cheetah form and raced to Old Town where he could hide as a rogue. He had to lose his attackers before going to Opalbane. Inevitably, Alessandre passed by the Trade District on the way to the right bridge across the expansive canal that divided the city.

There, he almost crashed into a real druid.

"Careful brother." the tall Night Elf druid greeted Alessandre warmly, and cast a rejuevenation spell, mark of the wild, and a thorns buff on him when it was clear the stranger was injured. Druids hadn't changed in a thousand years, Alessandre observed gratefully somewhere in the back of his feral mind. "We are all hurrying out of the city to satisfy the Archdruid's behest, but there is no need to push." the druid admonished Alessandre.

Alessandre backpedaled a few hasty steps as he tried to figure out what the druid meant. Of course, in his cat form, the association didn't register.

"You can get in front of me if you like. You look troubled." Another friendly druid wearing a helmet that resembled moose antlers bent down and beckoned to Alessandre, almost if he were a real cat. "We're all anxious to do what the Archdruid wants. It seems there is an emergency and all the druids in Stormwind are needed back in Darnassus immediately. Before we leave though, they want all of us to gather in the Trade District."

The cutthroats caught up to the huge assembly of Night Elf druids in their various forms. Alessandre took advantage of the confusion and ran through a pack of cheetahs who raced across his bridge to meet the others. By the skin of his teeth, he managed to lose his pursuers... except for two men who noticed the lone cheetah run off into the night.

One man looked at the other. "That stupid druid's headed to Old Town." he chuckled then looked at his friend. "You ever heard of karma?" His partner nodded and grinned wickedly.


	14. Myrielle hates dancing for free

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Fourteen: Myrielle hates dancing for free**

Second Commander Myrielle Fadeleaf glared at Han the entire time that she danced. Han was smiling oddly back. Perhaps he thought it was a romantic gesture directed entirely at him? Myrielle hoped he did. When she let him ask her up to his room later she'd take off the flimsy red gown, let him get real comfortable... and then drop kick him. Myrielle also hoped he had lots of breakable things in his apartments. She was going to smash every single one, she didn't care about international relations or a promotion from Shadowstep at this point.

"You go, sister!" other female Night Elves called out to Myrielle as she danced. Myrielle felt sorry for them. It was nervous cheering that she knew well, the kind a female Kaldorei used when she tried to fit into the crowd in hopes that the men there wouldn't make notice her and then make her join in too.

Of course, Han would have Myrielle perform in the Officer's Lounge attached to SI:7. All around, talented soldiers of the Alliance were decked out in their golden epic armor and weapons. At first, just passerby paused every few moments while perusing the Quartermasters' wares before the battlemasters in Stormwind Keep summoned them to the far reaches of Azeroth to fight the Horde. But, after a while, the officers and their friends stopped queuing up for the battlegrounds all together. They filed in the doors to stare at Myrielle.

Han seemed to notice that it was after sunset and stepped in to make Myrielle stop. "Alright, that's enough of a show for now folks."

"And don't dare come back next weekend expecting some kind of performance... I just lost a bet." Myrielle announced. Then she frowned darkly at some of the men who just shrugged and walked away. "Can you believe it? I danced very well tonight but I didn't even get any tips out of this." she confided in Han.

Han blinked at Myrielle. "Sweetheart, you are so pretty right now, I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear say you enjoyed that."

Myrielle put a hand on her hip and pursed her perfect cherry lips. "You mean, you knew how demeaning we Night Elf women find dancing for people yet... you still made me do it? Aren't you afraid that I'm going to beat you up now?"

Han escorted Myrielle out of the Officer's Lounge and outside, onto the steps leading to the entrance of SI:7.

"It _was_ a bet, but furthermore it was also a punishment."

"When I get Al next week, you'll see–"

"Now hold on. There is no next week. Shadowstep sent you here to help SI: 7 and you failed. There are no more extensions, or second chances. In fact, I knew you couldn't do it when you came in here before with that foolishness about your ex-boyfriend and the extrication of the druids in Stormwind. I just took mercy on you, because you made a bet with me that I knew I would win. And I _did_ enjoy the show. Myrielle, Stormwind is very disappointed in you and the Cenarion Enclave for letting her down. Now, it's time for the Human rogues to clean up your people's mess."

Myrielle made fists of her hands, fuming. "So, I've been bested by a rogue that you all never trusted. I've been doing favors for SI:7 since I was a novice... and Al never showed any kind of loyalty. Not to the Dwarves, or the Humans... and barely even the Night Elves until now... and somehow, I'm the one you're displeased with?"

Han shrugged. "It's not exactly like that, Myrielle. SI: 7 doesn't trust Alessandre because he's never tried to join up with us. It's like he managed to become a rogue all by himself, without the benefit of any trainer loyal to the Alliance... it's very strange, really."

_Then the truth is right in front of your stupid face!_ Myrielle thought angrily. She was about to say as much when a loud roar interrupted their conversation.

"Help! It's that crazy druid, someone help!"

Despite their recent argument, both rogues went on the offensive immediately. One human rogue lie dead in the street next to a large angry bear with white moon sigils imprinted on its shoulders. The second rogue had tried, but failed to finish off the creature and was now running for his life. Myrielle crouched low and withdrew the long steel dagger she always kept in her red boots, no matter what. Then, she lined them with poison.

The guy the druid was pursuing didn't look like much, probably your average Old Town thug. The angry bear looked like any druid too, until it roared then abruptly started coughing like an old dwarf.

"I didn't think druids smoked pipes?" Han worried as he and Myrielle began to close in on the notorious murderer.

_But I know of only one Kaldorei who can't go anywhere without his pipe! _Myrielle eagerly concluded for herself.

"Hey!" Han shouted dumbly to distract the druid. It swatted mercilessly at the thug with its big claws until the man died, then faced Han, snarling.

That was when Alessandre, the bear, recognized Myrielle. He stared at her in the revealing red dress for a moment, but it was just long enough for his feral rage to cool. Alessandre realized he was in exactly the wrong place to be killing rogues, even if it was in the defense of his life. Decorated officers inside the barracks were coming out onto the steps of SI:7, eager to see what the problem was.

"Hey, that's the murderer! Don't let him get away!" someone shouted.

Alessandre shifted into his cheetah form lightning fast and ran.

Han was shouting something silly about Myrielle staying out of it while he called for reinforcements. But the determined Second in Command hiked up her skirt and sprinted after Alessandre. They left Old Town and came back to the main streets that lined the canal. Myrielle angrily swatted at Alessandre, trying to slash the Night Elf with her daggers so that she could poison him and he'd be unable to restealth. Alessandre knew all the old tricks and dodged every attack. After a while, he outpaced Myrielle and sprinted ahead along the length of the canal, then disappeared.

A normal rogue might have panicked and given up after such a tiring chase, but Myrielle was Shadowstep's second in command for many good reasons. First, she never failed an assignment. Second, she never failed an assignment because she was extremely clairvoyant. Third, Myrielle as persistent as the march of death. No one ever got away from her. Myriellel dropped into stealth and searched every single doorstep, under every porch. If he'd stealthed, Myrielle knew that Alessandre wouldn't be able to get very far. Along this side of the canal, there were many private homes that the owners kept locked up tight all day long and there were few places where one could hide. To her knowledge, there was only one abandoned place, but the spaces between the wooden slats over the windows were too small for a normal person to crawl through, not even a gnome rogue.

Myrielle swore when she didn't find Alessandre out in front of any of the houses. She'd lost him. Still, Myrielle's gut told her to not to give up just yet. As she had back in the tavern when she guessed that Alessandre had a crush on Opalbane, Myrielle reviewed everything she knew about druids in her head, reaching for anything that could aid her now. The pet kitten she had when she was a little girl kept coming to mind, but she didn't ignore the nagging thought. She gave in and let it guide her imagination. That little cat was also getting into messes, sneaking into places that weren't meant for cats. She'd gone crazy hunting for the rebellious feline. Then, Myrielle remembered something critical about cats: they could always fit into a tiny space, as long as their head and shoulders could fit through.

The sly female Night Elf rogue creeped up to the abandoned house and examined the small space over the window between the wooden slats. Purple fur had rubbed off on the rough edges of the wooden planks. And then from inside the house, yellow feline eyes flashed at her. Myrielle ducked low, then dared to look again after a moment of waiting. She looked up just in time to see a purple nightsaber change into its true form. Alessandre emerged from the gentle gray cloud of Cenarius' magic and dusted himself off. Then, his own glowing yellow eyes stared back at the hole in the broken window, between the wooden boards that covered it. Myrielle watched as Alessandre peered into the night outside, trying to see if he'd been followed. However, unlike her overconfident quarry, Myrielle had remained stealthed and Alessandre just looked right through her into the city beyond.

Myrielle slipped away before Alessandre might notice her and made for Darnassus with her precious evidence. A rogue in their own guild was the notorious druid serial killer in Stormwind. Not only must Shadowstep learn of this kind of thing first, Han and the humans of SI:7 had proved unworthy of her services.


	15. Escape from Stormwind: Part I

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Fifteen: Escape from Stormwind, Part I: Starshatter is out of the bag**

**(It's a long one folks!)**

"Alright, I think that everyone's accounted for. Let's make our way to the Dwarven District to take Gnomish Tram."

A roar of complaints rose up from the druids assembled in the Trade District of Stormwind City. Many of them were wary of Gnomish technology... at least that is what they'd say if one were to ask. The truth is, many Night Elves were simply afraid of big scary machines like the tram.

Their leader, who had purple raven's wings soaring over his hulking shoulders didn't have the chance to convince his fellows to go. A green glass bottle whistled through the air and shattered at the base of the stone fountain where he stood above the crowd. Then its contents burst into flame.

"Kill the druids! Kill every single one of 'em till we find the murderer!"

The Night Elf druids, decked out in their leafy and animal skinned costumes turned towards the Auction House behind them, confused. A mob of angry rogues, of all shapes and sizes, brandished their shining daggers in the moonlight. They waved flaming torches over their heads and charged in. The Stormwind Guards who were always on duty did their best to quell the fighting, but it seemed all the rogues in SI:7 had come to attack the druids, not just the scraggly types that tended to frequent Cutthroat Alley. The Night Elf druids responded to the threat instantly, shedding their new loyalties to the Humans when it failed them. Purple Marks of the Wild and Rejuvenation spells lit up one side of the dark Trade District. On the other side, orange firelight lit faces twisted with hatred. Shouts rang out as the first Humans and Night Elves began to clash.

"Call for reinforcements!" One of the Stormwind Guards cried out to his comrade as he was overwhelmed by the throng. This had international incident written all over it.

Not too far away, Max, leader of Priest Faltheriel's thugs, made a steady procession towards Cathedral Square. With nasty curses and horrible oaths, he kept the men on task. All around them, Stormwind was in chaos as rogues of all types raced through the streets towards the Trade District. The rogues kept badgering the men on their way with war cries and challenged the cutthroats' loyalty to SI: 7. Max was furious to see some of his men slip away when it got out that some of the stores in the Trade District were being ransacked. For once, the Stormwind Guard had been unable to keep the peace. In a city full of skilled warriors, this kind of civil disobedience was the worst kind of challenge for mere city guards.

Thinking quickly, Max began to shout to everyone up and down the street on both sides of the canal, "Come with us! We're going the right way... the murderer is hiding in the Cathedral of Light." It was a nasty coincidence for Alessandre. Though Max would never be smart enough to guess the Night Elf rogue's true identity, it seemed that Alessandre's misdeeds found a way to catch up with him regardless. Max knew that capturing Opalbane would mean killing her bodyguard, who'd Faltheriel just found out about. Maybe the loose rogues would end up killing the wrong person and not the druid they wanted, but at this point, any Night Elf would do for the fever-pitch mob. It really didn't matter to Max as long as he didn't lose any more men in the chaos of the city.

"There will be no sanctuary in the Cathedral of Light! No sanctuary for murderers!" Max shouted again, to rile up the men around him. Rogues running in the opposite direction caught sight of the spectacle and joined in. The numbers in Max's gang swelled until the street on his side of the Canal became packed shoulder to shoulder with angry dagger-wielding shady types, each shouting for justice in his or her own language. "No sanctuary for murderers!" they chanted over and over. Max passed his torch back so that others could light theirs. Stormwind Guards that saw them coming were forced to run in the opposite direction. They were coming for Priestess Opalbane at last, and no one was going to stop them now.

_Later in the Cathedral of Light..._

A stifled grunt came from the guard just outside Opalbane's door. The pale shadowpriestess knew that only a rogue could work so smoothly. The heavy iron bolt made a grating noise as it slid free on the outside. Opalbane prepared herself for the worst.

Alessandre slipped into the dark room and softly closed the door behind him.

"Moonlily?" he asked.

Opalbane was afraid to speak. Finally, she managed a weak, "Is it really you?"

Alessandre sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry... I never should have left."

"It's alright, Benactus explained everything to me. I don't blame you for wanting to leave me behind. So... I guess this is goodbye?"

A tense silence built up between them, then Alessandre responded angrily. "Benactus told you that I was abandoning you?"

Opalbane nodded, which Alessandre could see fairly well in the dark, since he was a Night Elf.

"That cold hearted old bastard! He threatened to tell Darnassus that I was seducing you this whole time, and not protecting you... he made me feel like I had to end the mission." Then Alessandre exhaled, exasperated. "He lied to both of us, Opal."

"No... that can't be." Opalbane stubbornly defended her old mentor. "Benactus may be a cultist, but he is still on my side. I'm not offended that you don't have feelings for me too... it hurts, but I'm a big girl. I know you have a job to do." Opalbane didn't sound confident about it however.

"Wait, you told Benactus that you cared for me?"

Opalbane nodded. "Yes, I explained everything to him when we separated last night and he took me to my room... and I also have new furniture for some reason. Anyways, I didn't want you to get into any trouble."

"I told him the very same, and he pretended that I was a liar!" Alessandre seethed.

Opalbane's shining white eyes went wide.

"I never knew... I never really could trust Benactus, could I?" Opalbane concluded for herself. She sounded sad. "And to think that I almost killed you back in that tavern... while on that drunken rampage. If I'd succeeded, I would have lost my very last friend."

"Killed me?" Alessandre challenged, his macho pride dented. "Alright, well yes, you are strong enough to kill me, and you were well on your way to doing it, but... I think I enjoyed it."

Alessandre blushed, and was grateful that even with their night vision, Opalbane probably might not see it.

Opalbane shook her head. "I remember everything that I did last night... I just didn't remember your reaction. I threw glasses at you, and then–"

"And then I watched you turn back into a cultist, right in front of my eyes." Alessandre recalled mournfully. "Are you really recovered now?"

"Yes, I think so. I'm back under the influence of the manaburn candles again." she gestured to the tiny blue lights all around her bed. "But after last night, I don't think I'm touching anything except for water from now on."

Alessandre began to rummage around her room. "Good. We have to leave Stormwind right now. There's a mob coming right to your doorstep."

"A mob!" Opalbane exclaimed. Alessandre explained what he'd overheard at Faltheriel's latest meeting in Cutthroat Alley. He left out the part about killing a dozen men in a feral rage and then almost dying because of it. And of course, he left the part about all of SI: 7 going mad in the streets looking for him out too. When Opalbane asked about his blood-soaked armor, Alessandre shrugged and said that he had to fight his way through some of the rogues to get to her.

"Here, put this on." Alessandre handed Opalbane a humble white novice's robe. It wasn't very flattering with the purple-dyed fringes, but it was better than her old nightgown. "And yes, I stole it, so don't bother me about it." He waited for her to get dressed. Opalbane was disappointed to see that, after all they'd been through, he still turned his back to give her privacy. "Now, I know you insist that you haven't a friend in the world, but is there anyone at all nearby that you could go to right now? Someplace you could hide?"

Opalbane frowned, and fiddled with her long white braid. "Willypearl lives very close to here, in Eastvale Logging Camp, but every time I asked her to visit me she said she was too busy planning her wedding. It _is _coming up but... I think she's also embarrassed for the Pontiers and wants to avoid anymore scandal as far as I'm concerned. The business about she and I stealing the Archmage's ring a while back might be settled, and our names cleared, but the Pontiers are barely allowing her to marry into their family over it."

"That's no good then." Alessandre's palms began to sweat. "We have to go to Darnassus." he waited for Opalbane to fly into hysterics. She didn't.

"My foster mother was right. I should have never come here. I thought Priest Benactus and the shadowpriests were the only ones who could heal me... and because I was being stubborn, I refused to let Priestess Feathershine help. I still haven't gotten over that argument we had over my becoming a shadowpriestess, and forsaking the Priesthood of Elune." Opalbane sighed. "You know, I haven't seen Benactus in the last day, and the guards won't let any of the novices in to see me... and these windows are nailed shut. I finally understand that I'm a prisoner here."

"It's not your fault, Opalbane." Alessandre comforted her. "All your life, you've only done what you thought was right. In fact, that's what I... like about you."

Opalbane cheered up immediately when she saw Alessandre hesitate over his feelings for her. She was sure the word _love_ was supposed to be in there somewhere, only he was clearly afraid to admit it.

"Can you walk?"

Opalbane nodded. "When I sneaked out of here yesterday, I put out the candles and let my mana regenerate. The more I got back, the stronger I felt. I think getting away from the demonic rune had something to do with it also. It's strange though... while we were out at the tavern, I realized just how strong I was. I should have been cured of my fel mana days ago. Would Benactus really lie to me about that too?"

"Though I don't doubt that he would, for your own safety, I think we'd better take the manaburn candles along. Maybe you reverted into a cultist at the last moment because of the alcohol, but I have a hard time believing that, since you had been drinking steadily the whole evening. I bet your mana pool is still tainted."

"What? So now you're saying Benactus _did_ try to heal me?"

"He had to. You're a clever girl, Opalbane. You may get blinded by your emotions from time to time, but you'd catch on if Benactus kept you locked up here and didn't even try to help you. I think he did a half-assed job of healing you on purpose to make you think he was on your side. But he was really just buying time until he could convince you to return to Silithus with him. I ruined his latest attempt at that when I came to visit you on the Eve of Winter's Veil."

Alessandre put out the candles and then stuffed a handful of them in his pack. Next, he went to help Opalbane to her feet.

"Wait! I need time for my mana to regenerate, or else I'll fall."

"I don't think we have much time." Alessandre urged. "I can stun three guards at once..." Alessandre decided not to explain exactly how he was going to do it. "But only in an emergency. You'll need to be able to walk independently if I'm going to attempt sneaking us out of here at all. Once we get outside, I have a mount waiting for us."

Alessandre waited as long as he dared for Opalbane to ready herself, then he leaned in and took a firm hold of her arm, just under her shoulder.

"Ready to make a break for it?" he half-joked. Opalbane smiled though she was very nervous. When he opened the door for both of them and the lamps from the hallway shone on Alessandre's face, Opalbane saw just how nervous he was too.

Out in the hallway, Alessandre immediately restealthed. With a deft movement, he performed a sapping technique on the incapacitated guard, while holding Opalbane firmly in his other hand.

"He put guards right on top of your damn door. Do you know how hard it is to sneak up behind someone when their back is up against a wall?" Alessandre complained, but Opalbane found it hard to believe that Alessandre was having any real difficulty with the guards. She watched, amazed, as he went about his work. She rested far down the hallways and in stair wells while Alessandre stealthed neatly away and brought his arms around his victims in artful arcs. Sometimes she actually saw the easy flick of his wrists. Iin some tight spaces, she could only admire his shadow as he crouched low behind people. Each time, Opalbane inhaled nervously, waiting for Alessandre to miss and alert the entire dormitory to her escape. He never failed though, not once. Opalbane knew that it was the worst possible time to think such a thing, but she found all Alessandre's perfect movements incredibly sexy.

Finally, they came into the Cathedral proper, and had to plan what to do next. There were many guards here. "I think what I'll have you do is walk out ahead of me and–"

"You'll do no such thing." Opalbane raised her hand for silence. She was feeling better and starting to sound like a full priestess again. "I'm going to do the same thing I did when I snuck out to enjoy the Love is in the Air holiday with you." Alessandre firmly objected, but the look Opalbane gave him was intriguing. He kept quiet, and watched the beautiful shadowpriestess walk calmly out into vaulted main aisle of the large cathedral. Then, she looked at the guard nearest them and raised both hands above her head, taking a moment to cast a silent spell. Then she did the same for the guard on their left.

"Come." she said simply. It took a while for Alessandre to realize she was talking to him. Her voice was so strong now. It commanded him without hesitation, and sent shivers up his spine. Alessandre couldn't keep the giddy smile off his face.

Ten guards lined the main aisle. At intervals, Opalbane used a Mind Soothe spell to distract each guard as they went. When they reached the exit, Alessandre checked over his shoulder, unbelieving. Five guards on each side of the wall stared straight ahead, as alert as ever. With Opalbane's help, they'd been able to simply walk right by them.

"Look!" Opalbane tugged on Alessandre's sleeve. The canal was barely visible through a portal in the white brick walls around Cathedral Square that led down to the main streets of Stormwind. On either side of it the canal beyond, countless points of orange flame cut the black darkness. The sight of so many people marching on Stormwind herself was staggering. Both Alessandre and Opalbane heard stories of a time when Orcs marched through the city like that... and it was hard to shake the feeling that this mob wasn't just as dangerous. Frozen with fear, the two Night Elves didn't blink until they saw the Human faces materialize from the darkness. And by then, they were almost too close.

"There's the murderer!" Someone shouted savagely. Alessandre knew the speaker as Max. He grabbed Opalbane firmly by the arm, almost lifting off her feet, and they ran towards the Orphanage on their left then disappeared around a dark corner.

"You look very weak. Can you lean against me?" Alessandre pressed in close to her. Opalbane hadn't realized how casting all those Mind Soothe spells had drained her energy.

"Al, this really isn't the time for–" she complained, but Opalbane regretted the bad joke as soon as she made it.

Alessandre let forth a sharp whistle, cutting her off. From the darkness of the narrow alleyway behind them, a large white nightsaber came racing towards them. At least, Opalbane thought it was white. When Alessandre lifted her into the saddle, she saw that the animal actually had stripes, but they were so old and faded that they blended into its white coat. The juxtaposition of gray stripes and white fur made the animal look like it was covered from head to toe in an exotic silvery sheen, the color of fading moonglow. Alessandre mounted up behind her and scooted up against her in the saddle. Opalbane squealed in surprise at having him just that close. They'd shared a bed many times, but this was different. Alessandre wasn't distraught and needing a sanctuary for the night, or lounging away lazy morning hours with her before going off on his casual investigations again. This was Alessandre the man at work. Without apologizing, he wrapped his strong arm boldly around her waist and pressed in against her again. It would have been purely indecent if she didn't feel so weak that her muscles felt they would give out at any moment. Alessandre was just trying to keep her steady and she knew it.

"Lean against me," he said, and with his free hand, took the reins and turned the big animal around. Alessandre's saber mount was huge, bigger than any she'd ever seen before. Elaborate green armor covered the animal's face and protected its neck. It looked alien, like something that came out of the Qiraji Hives in Silithus. But it couldn't be Silithid armor... Opalbane realized with a start that the animal itself--with its faded fur and ancient armor--must be from all that long ago... and what about its master?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Alessandre demanded, "did you think I was a bum and couldn't afford an epic mount?" he teased her and kicked the animal in the sides with his heels. With a showy roar, the silver nightsaber leapt into action.

To Opalbane's surprise, Alessandre was taking them down alleys and throughways that she didn't even know existed. The loud roar of the mob had faded behind them as they delved into the quiet secret places in the city. Eventually, though, Opalbane began to recognize more and more streets and buildings until it became obvious where they were going.

"Hold on tight, we're going to go through another mob. The city's in an uproar right now, but Starshatter is trained well, and he can keep us safe from most of it." Alessandre's voice carried well over the quiet panting and soft paw steps characteristic of a nightsaber mount.

"All this over me?" Opalbane worried. Alessandre's leather creaked as he leaned in closer to her, but didn't say anything. A flood of orange light met them as they burst out of a side alley, and onto the main street that was split down the middle by the canal. Opalbane was horrified to see people shouting and torching buildings. People ran everywhere with stolen goods in their full arms. She wasn't sure, but thought she saw two purple nightsabers leap off the roof of a building and onto the heads some rogues who were looting a clothing store. But when she turned to really look at it, Alessandre jerked them the opposite way, and the enormous Starshatter barreled through a group of people exiting the Dwarven District. Alessandre shifted his hips to keep her from sliding out of the saddle and Opalbane blushed furiously.

Alessandre aimed the silver saber towards the entrance to the Gnomish Tram, but a mob of people stealing weapons from the local blacksmith stopped them short. "It's that priestess the High Elf wants!" some thug picked up a well made sword that was resting on an anvil and advanced on them. His friends did the same.

Alessandre looked like he wanted to hop down and hack them all to pieces, but he reigned Starshatter in and made the enormous cat backpedal a few steps. Starshatter roared angrily, and struggled against Alessandre's grip. The Night Elf rogue clenched his jaw tight as he pulled on the reigns with all his might.

"What's wrong?" Opalbane asked in Darnassian.

"He wants to attack them."

"Nightsabers aren't for fighting!" she objected, incredulous.

Alessandre reluctantly answered, "This one is. He's trained for war... but it's been years–"

"Let him then!" Opalbane cried angrily. "Or are you so willing to hand over my blood, just so that I won't be repulsed by you!"

Alessandre flinched in surprise at the woman he was holding. Then, a wicked smile came onto his face, and he tossed his dark blue hair out of his eyes. He threw his head back and cried out, "Andu-falah-dor!"

The battle cat reacted savagely to the ancient signal, and charged into the Humans wielding weapons against them. Opalbane and Alessandre held on for dear life as the animal raked at people with its claws, and leapt onto runners. One man slashed at Starshatter with his sword and it chinged loudly against the odd runed stone headdress the animal wore. With a deafening roar, Starshatter seized the man in his jaws and then shook the Human mercilessly before tossing the lifeless body aside.

It was gruesome, and Opalbane realized she really didn't have the stomach for it after all. Alessandre didn't appear any better off than she was, but he was so deathly serious about keeping them both alive, it wasn't easy to tell.

"Easy now, Starshatter." Alessandre whispered another ancient command to the saber and it left off chasing down the rest of the people who fled. Then, he grimly turned the large beast around and they galloped through the portal into the Gnomish Tram station.

The train was there and taking off when they got in, and Alessandre forced the gigantic cat to leap across the next platform to get into the last train car just in time. The cat sat uncomfortably in the undersized car, but Alessandre showed no signs of dismounting. They passed the entire ride to Ironforge in silence, and when it was time to get off, Alessandre kept the same panicked pace as before.

"What do you mean you won't let two people ride on a Griffon? Can't you see she can't even sit up on her own?" Alessandre shouted at the Flight Master before the Great Forge. The glowing red forge pumped hot steel that looked like magma below them, causing the center of the great dwarven city to look–and feel like a volcano. Without missing a beat, the Flight Master took the coins from other patrons, while simultaneously nodding at this watchful Griffons to leap off their perches and then take off with customers to the far reaches of the Eastern Kingdoms. The majestic half-eagle, half-lion beasts eyed Alessandre's war mount warily.

"Those are the rules, laddy. I don't change 'em for anyone, hear?"

Alessandre began to swear so loud that Opalbane let go of him momentarily to cover her long ears. Next, he apologized and tried to give a handful of shining gold pieces to the Flight Master.

"I said No! It ain't safe. Now, do I have to tell the Ironforge Guard, cause King Magni Bronzebeard is just around the corner there, and I'm sure he'd be happy to hear that another foolish Night Elf rogue is giving us trouble."

Alessandre remembered the disaster Wisthera made of his career a few months back while in Thelsamar and decided to let the subject drop. Maybe the Flight Master didn't realize he was the very rogue who'd been framed for leaking the secrets of the Maker's Terrace to all of Azeroth, but it didn't matter. If Alessandre made trouble, clearly any official in Ironforge would be against a Night Elf rogue instantly.

Alessandre and Opalbane stopped by a Tailor's then rode out of the noisy city.

"How are we going to get to Darnassus now? We need a boat from Menethil Harbor, and it's so far away." Opalbane was at least relieved to see that it was still night when they emerged from inside the mountain city. She and Alessandre had a lead on anyone who didn't think to go afer them to Ironforge on the tram.

"We'll ride." Alessandre said grimly, and handed Opalbane a heavy cloak from the Tailors. He put one on himself, and then wrapped a third one around them both. He urged his mount forward, and the steady silver saber plodded down the long snow-covered mountain side that led away from the great city of Ironforge.

Startled young warriors of the Alliance ran from the road as they raced by. Several little gnomes cried cheers and tried to elicit a wave from the rider, or at least a trick of some kind from the rare nightsaber mount, but Alessandre kept focused on driving Starshatter forward and paid them no mind. Opalbane heard someone shouting at them to join their group, and she turned clear around in the saddle to glare at the young dwarf hunter who'd asked. He was hopping up and down in the road behind them, waving his gun like a fool. His pet bear wisely gave the road itself a wide berth, for fear of the battle cat's wrath. Cold air rushed in on Opalbane's face and stung her cheeks like thousands of tiny needles when she turned back around. Alessandre seemed to understand and huddled in closer to her. He pressed his warm cheek up against her own under the blankets.

It took all night to reach the more temperate region in the Dwarves' kingdom, called Loch Modan. Opalbane had fallen asleep. She woke to the sight of brown cloaks being whipped in front of her face. Alessandre softly apologized as he got rid of the heavy cloaks they no longer needed. Behind them, the large blankets wavered helplessly in the wind. They were moving so fast that Opalbane didn't even get a chance to see them hit the ground. Then, they disappeared into a tunnel that would take them down and out of the mountainous region.

"Is it okay to drive Starshatter like this?" she asked.

"No." Alessandre answered bluntly. "He's strong, but running at full speed all night long and for the next half of today could likely kill him. But getting you to safety is more important." he frowned. "What's wrong? Are you feeling okay?"

Opalbane's eyes went blank. "I want to see Benactus." she said woodenly, her voice spooky.

Alessandre shuddered. "You really can't go without those manaburn candles for long, can you?" he observed. "Benactus is the enemy, remember? We can't go back, or else Faltheriel's thugs will try to get a hold of you as well."

"Who's Faltheriel?" the new idea caused Opalbane to snap out of it. Alessandre sighed.

"I didn't want to admit it before but... I think I am the one making you like this. You are responding to my fel mana." he cursed himself for not wanting to think of it sooner.

Underneath them, Starshatter panted heavily, and missed a step. Alessandre managed to correct the large cat just in time. They emerged from a long dwarven tunnel into the open air in the mountain pass between Loch Modan and the Wetlands. A primitive looking orc from a nearby clan that hid in the mountains came out to challenge them, but Starshatter's sheer bulk threatened to railroad him off the road and over the side of the mountain. The orc skittered back into his hiding place, thinking better of his ambush.

Opalbane felt that revelation about Alessandre having mana should mean something to her, but she couldn't think straight at the moment.

"Why don't you heal Starshatter as we go along, okay? He'll appreciate it, and we need to drain some of that mana of yours until we can stop and set those candles up." Alessandre suggested. He shook Opalbane gently awake, and she met his concerned gaze with a feeble, "Alright, Al."

It was after lunchtime when they made it to Menethil Harbor. Alessandre raised up in the saddle after they passed over the bridge that spanned the swamp just before the city gates. He strained to look around the barracks that blocked a view of the docks beyond.

"Shit!" he swore softly, and righted himself. The boat to Darnassus was taking off. "Hold on, Opal." Opalbane was weary. Her fingertips slipped from under Starshatter's peculiar helmet, where she had been touching his fur and releasing her healing powers into the cat. With another ancient command that Opalbane didn't recognize, Alessandre urged the cat to run even harder. Panting heavily, the fierce silver beast charged headlong through the city and onto the docks. Sailors screamed and fled from the massive charging cat. Opalbane felt the cat's great heart pound dangerously underneath her, and she silently prayed to Elune that the noble animal not suffer for her sake.

Two scruffy men dismounted from Griffons that just landed in Menethil Harbor and shouted at Alessandre and Opalbane. But, the precious seconds it took them to go and get their mounts from the stable master were all Starshatter needed to finally get the lead. Alessandre leaned forward to get the edge, almost causing Opalbane to double over in the saddle. He freed his other arm from around her waist and took Starshatter's reigns in both hands.

"Up!" he commanded the exhausted animal at the last moment. Starshatter must have loved Alessandre with an illogical kind of loyalty, the kind that bonded souls together for all eternity, because at that exact moment--and not a second before or after--the cat obediently leapt into the air and landed on the deck of the quickly departing ship with a loud thud. Any other response from the feline, and they would have ended up in the Great Sea, and at the mercy of their attackers.

Alessandre quickly dismounted and helped Opalbane down. People around them were jostled by their arrival and backed away, frightened. Starshatter's massive forelegs trembled as he inhaled ragged breaths. The last thing Opalbane saw before she passed out was Alessandre kneeling down and hugging the beast gratefully.

Gold makes the world go round. The ship's captain understood this very well when Alessandre gave the man all his money to let he and Opalbane stay in his private quarters, the only secure place on the ship. Then, the handsome Night Elf rogue frantically set the manaburn candles on the desk nearby the bed, and took the match he always kept in his breast pocket and lit them. Next, Alessandre lay Opalbane down on the bed. Starshatter followed close behind. Sensing that their journey was at an end, the faithful cat collapsed in a corner and began snoring instantly.

Alessandre tried to wake up the enormous feline and give him food and water, but Starshatter swatted at Alessandre in response and nearly took off his head. "I'll take that as a no." He watched as the cat slowly faded from view. It was another one of Starshatter's old tricks, the ability to shadowmeld and achieve a kind of stealth for a certain period of time. Alessandre knew that meant he'd better leave his mount alone for a while. Starshatter needed to rest.

Alessandre went and sat on the bed next to Opalbane. She was sleeping peacefully as well.

Alessandre tried to light his pipe, but he'd used his last match on the manaburn candles. He was tempted to just light it with one of the candles, but he was already unsure of why the candles didn't affect his own mana. Alessandre really didn't want to see what would happen if he started smoking with their mysterious flames.

"Ah, it's time I cut back anyway." he griped and leaned back on the bed. Then, unable to resist, he curled up behind Opalbane and hugged her tight against his chest.

"Thank the goddess we made it out. I don't know what I'd do without you, Moonlily." he whispered, then fell into a deep sleep.

_At the same moment, on the deck of the ship..._

"Hey, can you swim well?" Max looked at the lone thug he'd been able to drag away from all the looting in Stormwind and get onto a Griffon to Ironforge and then to Menethil Harbor.

The dark haired man panted. He bent over, resting on his knees. "I swam all the way out here from the dock with you, didn't I?"

The captain came by and asked why the men had been so desperate as to swim after the boat. Max gave the captain a dangerous look and he backed away, eager to go about his own maritime business.

"Good." Max continued to his partner once the captain left. "Because as soon as I get my second wind, we are going to kill that stupid rogue and get the girl. If we act quickly, we'll still be far enough out to swim back, or at least float until the guys catch up with us. When they get here, they'll know what to do."

Author's Note:

Normally, I write this much in one sitting and cut it up into two episodes. I didn't want to break the momentum of this one though; it was too much fun. I'll try to keep future episodes to a reasonable length, but I'm not making any promises :P


	16. Escape from Stormwind: Part II

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Sixteen: Escape from Stormwind, Part II: A deadly libido**

When Opalbane felt Alessandre curl up against her she came alive. A powerful heat washed through the woman and her eyes flew open in the dim cabin. Five tiny blue flames flickered in warning, but the person who needed to see the alarm was fast asleep.

Opalbane lifted a trembling arm to the blue candles. With a jolt, she flashed her fingers open at the tiny flames and put them out. Next, Opalbane watched in the near darkness as her white hand began to smolder. The priestess' shadowform flared at her fingertips then consumed her entire arm. Opalbane liked the feel of her old self returning as the shadow armor consumed her entire body. She grinned wickedly.

But there was something else she was hungry for too.

The force of pleasure that woke Alessandre was so intense and surprising that he slammed his free hand flat against the headboard to steady himself.

"What… are you doing to me?" he struggled to catch his breath.

Opalbane grabbed Alessandre's thighs with hungry clawed fingertips and pressed her backside tighter against him. It was like they were in the saddle again, except there was no saddle.

"There is no danger now, Al… what are we waiting for?" her voice was desperate with need.

Alessandre blinked a few times, trying to check if he heard Opalbane right. The delicate virgin he was used to now sounded like a feral nightsaber in heat.

"We still need to get to… unnh." Alessandre lost track of his thought. He sighed happily and moved his free arm from around Opalbane's waist to caress her shoulder.

Alessandre began to ask Opalbane why she was acting so strangely, but when he saw the five extinguished manaburn candles the problem became obvious. Maybe Opalbane wasn't asking to go back to Priest Benactus again, but she sounded exactly the same as when they were going through the mountain pass. Again, Alessandre worried that his fel mana was making it harder on Opalbane than it needed to be. No pun intended, of course.

"Five manaburn candles aren't enough to drain your mana? There were at least twenty in your room, but I didn't think it mattered… I couldn't carry that many anyway!" the rogue balked.

"It doesn't matter, Al…" Opalbane's voice lowered until he almost couldn't hear her. Alessandre had to strain to catch traces of her sultry tone and the work it took to hear the dirty things she was saying turned him on even more. "…I just want you, that's all." She finally said clearly. "You saved me, love. Now the mission is over, and we can finally be together."

Opalbane was wrong. Alessandre knew full well that there was a great deal more to be done before the month was out, and he was running out of time. Aside from the long mental list of Twilight Cultists who needed to be assassinated by month's end, there was also that Blood Elf Faltheriel and his thugs… recalling Faltheriel now almost ruined the feel of Opalbane's warm backside pressing firmly into him.

"Oh, Moonlily," Alessandre moaned softly and kissed the back of Opalbane's neck. "We can't. Not now… I have to stay alert, and there is so much left that I must do for Master Rogue Shadowstep."

But Opalbane was lost in her own world. Only the sound of Alessandre's voice reached her, the meaning of his many good explanations fleeting. The gently throbbing intimate tone Alessandre used when they were romantic made the priestess flush with excitement.

Opalbane continued to press into her hesitant bodyguard until Alessandre gave up on his morals. He'd only been holding back because he didn't want to mess up the mission with Shadowstep's agents watching in Stormwind, anyways. But where was Myrielle now? She certainly wasn't on the boat. Furthermore, Human lands were far behind them. The gorgeous lecher welcomed the return of his old song and dance. As he'd done with many women in the past, Alessandre leaned up on his elbow a little to get leverage, and then moved with his more than willing partner.

"Oh, how I adore you!" Opalbane responded to his effort instantly. In fact, she sounded incredibly grateful. It occurred to Alessandre that the woman had been wanting him as badly as he'd wanted her. He couldn't help smiling at a woman having such powerful desire for him. In the past, women had come to Alessandre's bed eager and more than willing. His most recent jaunt in Thelsamar a few months back had involved four eager women! Opalbane was different, however. In her own way, she was even better than Thelsamar. Within moments of settling her down to rest, she'd come alive with a need alien to even most Night Elves. She moved against the man she wanted ferociously, as if her life depended on it. Then, a surprising thought came and shattered Alessandre's arrogance… would he really be able to sate this kind of hunger?

Opalbane raised her hands above her head and then moved them back around Alessandre's neck. She let his silken midnight blue hair slip through her fingers and luxuriated in the feel of it for a few moments. Then, she roved ever upward to his long shadow-purple ears. Opalbane slowly caressed the tips with her smoking fingers.

This drove Alessandre mad. He forced Opalbane around so that she was facing him and began to kiss her hungrily. Opalbane whimpered and tugged aggressively at his clothing. Her little eager moans were beginning to sound strange, like there were demons or worse trapped inside of the shadowpriestess that all wanted to cry out at once. Perhaps any other man would be frightened by this, but Alessandre liked the shivers it sent up his spine. He rushed to pull Opalbane's robe off and finish things. There was a rattle at the door, but neither of the lovers heard it.

"You're so beautiful," Alessandre breathed over her mouth between kisses. "I don't care who you are, cultist, shadowpriestess… I don't even care if you are a demoness… just don't ever change."

Opalbane should have been exhausted from their flight from Stormwind but she was overcome with a supernatural strength. Alessandre tried to ignore his own fatigue due to riding Starshatter so hard through Dwarven lands… between Opalbane and himself, just whose libido was worse in this situation? Alessandre numbed the thoughts about his epic mount. The cat was dead tired and wasn't going to be in the way for a few days at the least, but he didn't want to remember that there was an audience of sorts. It was beginning to seem like there would never be a perfect time for he and Opalbane to make love. Reluctantly, Alessandre released the pleading shadow priestess.

Opalbane looked up at Alessandre, eyes flaring. "I just mean to get these off, that's all." Alessandre quickly apologized and his hands flew to unlatch his belt. He barely got his pants open when the door picked that moment to open too.

A man with dark hair and raggedy clothing rushed in, brandishing a knife. Alessandre was briefly caught off guard, but then the thundering lust inside of him quickly turned to feral rage. He leapt off the bed and had his dazzling rapier out of its holster on the bedpost and in his hand in mere seconds.

"You want her, do you? Get back!" Alessandre challenged the man. Opalbane quickly dressed and then scooted down the bed as far as he could go.

"Looks like you want her too." The other man's eyes roved down the length of Alessandre and he couldn't resist making the joke.

Alessandre snarled at the Human and slashed angrily with his sword. The man flinched and fled. Alessandre charged after him, swearing. "Every damn time I try to—" the rest of his words faded away as the rogue raced through the open door.

Opalbane attempted to compose herself. Should she go help Alessandre? Her head was spinning, and she suddenly felt weak again. This was all happening too fast.

"Ah, so there she is at last." Max came into the room then. He looked over his shoulder, then scratched his beard. "I'm glad I had Bo wait when he came back and told me he heard the two of you getting down to business in here. I think I even pegged the perfect moment for him to barge in didn't I? Heh. You're still dressed, but that raging bull of a bodyguard is half out of his pants and angrier than Sargeras. He's going to be distracted for a goodly time." Max drew his dagger and slowly closed in on Opalbane. The blade was dirty. It barely reflected the pale lantern light of the captain's cabin. Opalbane tried to call on a spell, but a searing pain in her abdomen made her double over in agony. Max laughed cruelly.

"That time of the month, eh? Why do women think they can be soldiers? Oh, this will be easier'n I thought."

_Later on the deck of the ship…_

"I'm going to split you right open and then feed your hot innards to the sharks while I watch!" Alessandre yelled savagely at dark haired Bo out on the deck. The man scrambled up the rope ladders that linked to the ship's tall mast as fast as a monkey.

"Ha!" Bo challenged Alessandre and began hopping up and down when he got to the look-out's perch at the top.

Alessandre snarled menacingly, showing all his teeth. People forget that Night Elves have pronounced canine teeth, especially the men. Alessandre looked as feral as he acted. "Is it really sooo wrong to have sex while on a mission!" he griped out loud. "I'm in the middle of the Great Sea, neither Shadowstep, Benactus, Myrielle, nor SI: 7 can foul this up for me out here, but even with water around for miles and miles… I can't even--" people were beginning to come on deck, and Alessandre had to let his loud frustrated tirade peter out.

"Will you get down here and fight me like a man?" he demanded instead, getting back on track. Bo then began to cackle like a monkey and hopped up and down making rude gestures.

Alessandre threw his hands up in the air and turned around in a circle, unbelieving. The passengers began mumbling in excited tones. Alessandre took a calming breath, but failed to compose himself. "Oh, you're fucked!" he faced Bo again. "I'm coming up there!" he shouted.

"Well, you're _not_ fucked. I think that's what's really making you mad right now!" Bo grabbed his stomach and bent over laughing at the timely pun. "Oh, and by the way, your fly is still open." Then, Bo turned to the crowd and raised a hand in urgent warning. "Stand back everyone, he could poke an eye out with that thing!"

Feminine gasps rose up all around Alessandre. Some of the men snickered.

"That's it!" Alessandre sheathed his sword… and his other sword.

Bo was laughing so hard that he didn't notice the big Night Elf disappear.

The crowd got silent. "Uh oh." Bo said. He took a few ragged breaths to recover, then leaned over the side of the look out post. He watched the two rope ladders leading up both sides of the mast carefully for movement. None of the fiber footholds showed any signs of strain. Cautiously, Bo turned circles in the little roost, his two rusty daggers feeling the empty air around him. It seemed like forever passed and he still had no idea where Alessandre had gone to. Bo pressed his back up against the wide mast, hoping to at least protect his back from a surprise attack. But then, good rogue instinct urged Bo to look up.

A pair of shining yellow eyes glared down at him. The stealthed purple nightsaber hung upside down above Bo's head. It gripped the top of the mast with its back claws. The cat bared its long fangs at Bo. The cutthroat idly recalled that the snarl looked eerily familiar in the last moments of his life. Alessandre swiped at Bo's throat and split the jugular vein open with one shimmering moon-white claw, then immediately restealthed. He hoped no one saw him do it. Bo went limp, slumped over the side of the look out perch then fell many feet before his corpse slammed onto the deck. Alessandre grimaced at the sight, then wavered his long pointy ears about in feline innocence. He slowly crept down the length of the mast the way he'd come up—using his sharp claws to dig into the wood—then shifted into his rogue form and decloaked.

The captain of the ship came running to see what the matter was. "I am an agent working for Master Rogue Shadowstep and Priestess Feathershine of Darnassus." Alessandre hastily explained to the Human. Now that they were heading into Kaldorei lands, Alessandre was sure to mention the name of a Priestess of Elune. The scandal Feathershine had embroiled herself in with the courts of Stormwind wasn't so important where they were going.

The captain hastily nodded. "An enemy to Darnassus is an enemy to this crew. Here, someone get this body." He ordered his sailors. "Clean the deck. I'm sorry for the disturbance folks, but it seems to be taken care of…"

Alessandre sighed and shook his head at what he'd been forced to do. Making a kill in front of normal people usually went the wrong way. He was lucky that the fellow soldiers on board appeared to understand. Also, being inconspicuous about a mission was normally best, especially in a situation where he and Opalbane didn't have the option of hiding from the other people in such close quarters on the ship. Oh, and there was that other exposure at well… Alessandre did a quick self-conscious check of his closed pants fly. All in all, the situation had been resolved smoothly. Maybe Opalbane would be a bit rattled, but that could work to his advantage… He smiled as the thick desire flooded his mind again. It had never really gone, only ebbed.

"Help…" Opalbane shuddered and looked at Alessandre with terror in her eyes when he entered the room. Her palm was flat against the air, inches away from Max's chest. Blue energy leapt dangerously between them, but she could not keep up the Mind Flay spell for much longer. Max was on his knees, but furious. He made a last desperate attempt to slash at Opalbane with his dagger.

Alessandre lunged in and reached with his rapier, but he was too late. The invalid Opalbane screamed with fury, and summoned an explosive pulse of energy from her tainted reserves and killed Max herself. His body keeled over.

Slowly, Alessandre got back to his feet.

"I'm so sorry, Opal… I wasn't thinking clearly. It's the oldest trick, to pull an attacker out of a room like that. I should have guessed there were two of them. The other one was acting so stupid; it was obviously a diversion." Then he sighed. "Well, at least Max is one less person on my list."

Opalbane sagged into the bed and stopped moving. She said nothing.

"Opal? Opal!" Alessandre ran to the priestess and lifted her head into his lap. He used two fingers to check her pulse. "Help! Is there a healer on this ship?"

His dark fingers trembled as he looked into Opalbane's face. It was lifeless.

"No… Noo…" Alessandre said over and over and cradled her limp body in his arms.


	17. Escape from Stormwind: Part III

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Seventeen: Escape from Stormwind, Part Three: So many ladies, so little time**

"I'm sorry, rogue. I've done everything that I can to help." The rose-skinned Night Elf priestess put a comforting hand on Alessandre's shoulder. He kept rocking Opalbane back and forth, saying nothing.

"I bet you wouldn't guess it at first because we're so different, but… I actually knew Opalbane." The priestess continued, laughing nervously. "Well, she didn't really have any friends at the Temple, but we took lessons together. It is nice to see that she finally met someone."

"She is going to live, right?" Alessandre interrupted the priestess. She'd introduced herself as Bishune, many times, but Alessandre wasn't in the state of mind to remember it.

"I've done all that I can to heal her body. I'm afraid that the problem is with her mana though… I have no way of helping with that. That mana must be diseased… If so, it's the worst case of it I've ever seen. Somehow, it's also affecting her health and she's losing it steadily now. I'm surprised that she survived this long."

"It's a good thing you are heading to Darnassus, then." Another female Night Elf stood behind Bishune. Alessandre didn't remember this one's name either. Since Alessandre called for help and the Priestess of Elune came, all the women on the ship suddenly felt like they were invited into the captain's cabin. For some reason, the men on the ship had not cared to go into his room. On some level it made sense, since everyone else on the ship normally had to share a room. Alessandre had bribed the captain to let Opalbane and himself take over his private cabin to keep away from prying eyes, however. "All she probably needs is to be dunked in a moonwell. And Darnassus has got plenty of those." Hadn't Opalbane complained that Priestess Feathershine wanted to heal her in exactly that primitive fashion? That was precisely why the shadowpriestess had gone to her colleagues at the Cathedral of Light in Stormwind. Alessandre tried not to think of what would happen to his charge if the Priestesses of Elune were way off the mark in their treatments.

"Have you tried anti-venom?" a wide-eyed gnome woman sat cross-legged on the bed next to Alessandre. She smiled sadly at him and patted his hand.

Through his grief, Alessandre got the strange feeling that he was being ogled. He closed his eyes against the hungry gazes. _Always… it's always been like this…_ he wondered if he could trust any of these women to be sincere. Then, pain sprang anew in his heart. The only sincere woman in his life lay motionless in his arms. She was fading from this world, and fast.

"What did you say your name was, again?" A female Night Elf rogue leaned back in the corner of the room. Alessandre didn't have to look at her. He'd already checked… it wasn't any rogue that he knew.

"You're standing on my cat." He grumbled, trying to dodge the question.

"What? That huge epic mount is in this room? Why can't we see him?" the

Gnome asked, alarmed. Alessandre was annoyed at how close the little woman was sitting next to him. He could swear that each time he looked over, the Gnome was an inch closer to his thigh than she was before. Sadly, Alessandre realized that he couldn't prove it.

"Starshatter shadowmelded… and is sleeping very deeply." He answered the wary rogue quickly.

That's when the woman rogue's eyes went wide. "I've seen your stealthing mount before! I was there when you killed that Human monster named Alessandre who was with the Defias raid on Sentinel Hill in Westfall a few years back… rumor has it you took his name as a prize for killing him. You aren't _the_ Alessandre are you?"

The women in the room exchanged startled looks.

The woman rogue screamed. "It's you! It's really you! This is the one I was telling you girls all about. Remember what I said late last night, when we were swapping stories? A Night Elf rogue was alone on a ship just like this one with a woman…" she nodded eagerly to the other female travelers, and slowly realization lit up their faces.

"Wait, did I say my mount was stealthing… err… I meant that he's not here at all. Starshatter hates boats and jumped overboard a few days back." Alessandre was so worried about Opalbane that he couldn't focus. He was failing to keep his story straight.

"Did you really… I mean, every night for two weeks, did you really go to her and—"

"Yes!" Alessandre defended himself to the woman who asked about his libido. "Why is that so hard to believe? Some men have bigger appetites than others… and we were the only two people on the ship. There was nothing else to do." He shrugged, and tried to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal. He never was a braggart, but Alessandre felt a little pain in his chest each time he downplayed his excellent equipment.

The Gnome stared at him, wide-eyed. "I was once stuck on the Deeprun Tram when it broke down between Stormwind and Ironforge and the other Gnome there just giggled at me for three whole hours! He was cute, too! How come other men aren't like you?" she sounded terribly upset about this.

"The man at my work won't even talk to me!" a Human woman chimed in. "And, if I hike up my skirt just one more inch, I don't think they'll let me sell cheese anymore!"

"What does the length of your skirt have to do with selling _cheese_?" another Human woman objected. She had an odd gothic look about her, almost like Opalbane, except Opalbane was naturally pale and had dark markings around her eyes and on her lips.

"Hey, don't judge me! Just what do _you_ do for a living?" the cheese lady challenged.

"I summon people." The sultry Human warlock answered. "But, business has been bad since the Burning Crusade began though… when they started letting people use the meeting stones outside of instances. I met my husband at a summoning, you know." She sighed with disappointment. "It's been three years since we've had a night anything near the two weeks you spent with that woman." She gave Alessandre half a smile, but even so, it promised far too much.

"How did you do it!" the female Night Elf rogue demanded. "I've heard lots of other stories about you too, but I just thought it was gossip… But all those rumors are true, aren't they?"

Alessandre tried to object, but he was cut off again.

"Do you even have to ask?" the Gnome squeaked and put her little hands on her hips. Alessandre was shocked to see that she was almost sitting right on top of his leg now. "You all saw him hanging in the breeze out there, just like I did. And I almost got stepped on in the rush to come in here and—"

"That's enough!" Alessandre cringed. He couldn't believe that he actually liked this kind of attention from women only a month ago. Now, the shallow fighting over him was making him feel sick.

"Thank you for helping me with Opalbane, but I think she should rest now." It took a lot of glaring, but finally the women got up from around the bed and started to leave. Now, Alessandre feared he understood why. "You too." He narrowed his eyes at the Night Elf priestess named Bishune when she stayed near Opalbane.

"I… uh… well, you have my numbers." _Call me_ she mouthed, and slipped out the door.

Alessandre frowned. He hadn't remembered taking the woman's level and coordinates. But then, he saw it scrawled onto his arm in black ink. It definitely wasn't his handwriting.

"For goddess' sake, you'd better wake up! I don't want to live in a world without you, Opalbane!" Alessandre pleaded to the motionless woman, and wasn't joking about it in any measure. In her own way, the spooky but compassionate shadowpriestess had ruined Alessandre for other women.

But Opalbane did not get better. She didn't open her eyes again during the two weeks they were at sea. The overly amiable women checked in regularly, helping Alessandre to feed Opalbane what they could, and get her to drink fresh water. Someone even volunteered to bathe her regularly. Alessandre expertly left the room before the woman could finish asking if he wanted to join them.

It terrified Alessandre that he'd tried to save Opalbane, but nothing he did to help her was working. For all his thousands of years of life, he felt like an idiot, which was unsettling. He cursed his fel mana day after day, for enabling him to kill people, not heal people.

At last, the long days on the ship passed until only one remained. Alessandre took Priestess Bishune aside and asked her to do him a favor. If she rushed ahead by Hippogryph to alert Priestess Feathershine of their emergency arrival, preparations could be made that would buy back precious time for Opalbane. Priestess Bishune listened intently but then shook her head, no. She then leaned in and whispered a counter-offer in Alessandre's ear.

Alessandre's eyes went wide as he listened to more and more of what she wanted. "No, goddamit! Just do it out of the kindness of your heart, or she'll die. I'm not doing you any kinky favors!" he flared at her. Bishune regretfully agreed to help them for nothing and left the cabin.

Alessandre pressed his cheek against Opalbane's forehead. "No wonder you didn't have any friends growing up. Were all the women in your classes such selfish witches like that one?" he consoled the unconscious Opalbane. He ignored the sinking feeling that his empathy was too little, and come too late.

_Later, at the Temple of Elune in Darnassus..._

"Priestess Feathershine?"

The majestic Priestess of Elune looked up from her work. Her rose colored eyelids drooped drowsily and she yawned over the stack of novices' exams she had been grading. They were terrible. Maybe High Priestess Tyrande had finally allowed Feathershine to come away from investigating Furblogs in the starting area, but it had already been too much time away. The Priestess' long punishment for the fiasco in Stormwind was over, but too many people had suffered for it. Not only had countless novice soldiers of the Alliance been traumatized by her vengeful diatribes in Dolanaar, her novice priestesses had forgot many of their lessons. Feathershine's characteristic stringent instruction and merciless discipline had been gravely misplaced. She hoped that she could retire before that generation of Night Elves in Dolanaar grew up and started to raid dungeons. Those poor younglings would never look at Holy priests the same way again… how many of them had fled from her in terror when she took pity on their insistent stupidity and tried to heal them?

"Yes dear." Feathershine yawned again at her visitor. She excused herself, raising an emerald eyebrow. "I'm sorry, but I'm very busy right now… Bishune! I haven't seen you in ages, what are you doing here?"

Bishune curtsied. "I have an urgent message from _Alessandre_." She pronounced his name spitefully. "He's on his way here with Priestess Opalbane and says they are going to need your help."

"Oh my!" Priestess Feathershine got up from her desk. After Bishune explained the details of Opalbane's condition, Feathershine urged the woman onward. "Please, do Alessandre one last favor and go tell Master Rogue Shadowstep. He needs to know as well."

Bishune grumbled something about not even getting a kiss out of the deal, but she left the temple before Priestess Feathershine could ask what she meant.

Priestess Feathershine, Master Rogue Shadowstep, and a slew of Feathershine's novices waited nervously on the pier at Ruth'eran Village it seemed, forever. Bishune's hippogryph had been very swift, buying the precious minutes they needed to make the careful preparations for the ailing Opalbane. After, they had just enough time to rush out and meet the boat. Finally, as it always did, the ship suddenly appeared on the horizon when no one was looking. Then, it sailed proud and fast before docking a few minutes later.

Feathershine hardly breathed as she watched other Night Elves, who were strangers, stroll casually off the boat.

"He missed the boat." Shadowstep observed cynically. He was unusually grumpy.

Alessandre was the last one off the ship. He cradled Opalbane protectively in his arms. The sun set rapidly the way it always does in Azeroth and cast dramatic shadows over them both. Opalbane's pale white arm slipped free and hung limp, swinging in the air beyond Alessandre's grasp. Her head lilted back too and Alessandre struggled to support it. The handsome rogue's face was torn with grief. He walked very slowly, not even looking at Feathershine when she waved to him.

"Here, let me take her for you." Priestess Feathershine offered, and her novices flew in at her sides like ducklings, ready to help.

Alessandre paused then, and looked at Priestess Feathershine like she was a monster. "And hand her over to the person that made her feel like she had to run halfway across the world just to become a priestess, all by herself? Oh, and you're also the same person who made her feel like she could only recover far away from the Temple of Elune, where the priestess of the Light wouldn't look down their noses at her." Priestess Feathershine looked deeply hurt by Alessandre's words.

"Let me examine her, Alessandre." Shadowstep stubbornly insisted, and he reached in for Opalbane, but Alessandre wrenched free of his guild leader as well.

"I'm taking her up into Teldrassil, then you can have her. It's what I promised." He insisted illogically. He did not seem like the clear-minded, quick-thinking rogue who wisely enlisted the help of a Priestess of Elune to warn Feathershine hours earlier. The others began to worry what had happened in the last few hours.

"Alessandre…" Shadowstep warned menacingly.

"Hush!" Priestess Feathershine nudged her boyfriend in the side. She banished the pain from her face and began to command her novices. Feathershine sent a good amount of them running to complete useless tasks to keep from thinking about Alessandre's cruel words. She knew that grief did horrible things to people.

At Priestess Feathershine's insistence, everyone gave Alessandre a wide berth as he walked solemnly up the path to the humming violet portal that transported people up to the top of Teldrassil, and into the safety of Darnassus. Two stoic Sentinels came to life and saluted Master Rogue Shadowstep and Priestess Feathershine smartly as they passed.

When Alessandre opened his eyes again, the portal had brought him to the top of Teldrassil, and the comforting calm of Darnassus was everywhere about him.

"You're home." He cradled Opalbane to himself, and kissed her forehead, then each of her cheeks. "You're home. I'm so sorry, Opal. This was the best that I could do." His voice broke and he knelt there in the street, exhausted. The novices rushed in to help him.

"It's too late, it's too late." Alessandre kept insisting, but Feathershine broke through the young girls tugging at her and felt Opalbane's pulse herself. Then, stifling a cry, the Priestess of Elune swept her hand the length of Opalbane's still body, daring to check again with her powers.

"No… she has a little in her left yet. But we have only moments." Feathershine concluded hopefully. "Hurry off, now!" she shouted sternly to her novices. This time, Alessandre let them take Opalbane away. Priestess Feathershine placed a loving hand on Alessandre's cheek, thanked him, then rushed off after her girls.

Master Rogue Shadowstep came and stood in front of Alessandre last. The man's silent gaze felt oppressive on Alessandre's shoulders.

"Your contract is not up yet. I didn't expect you so early." Shadowstep rolled his shoulders. Many Night Elves had begun to age of late, though horribly. Shadowstep was an excellent exception to that though. His clearly defined jaw lent a sharp edge to his features that went well with his reputation as a hard as steel leader of the Kaldorei rogue network. "There are still three more weeks in this month," he continued in his harsh whisper, "and I haven't heard any reports of cultists' heads rolling. With sea voyages to and from Menethil Harbor taking two weeks at the least, just how do you intend to travel back to Stormwind in time and resolve all this!" Considering that Alessandre just thought Opalbane was dead, the Master Rogue's insistence on the mission seemed truly heartless. Shadowstep's dark green ponytail swung fiercely as he shook his head with disappointment.

Alessandre seethed at the apathetic reception his employer and guild leader gave. Then, something occurred to the handsome rogue. "Myrielle didn't tell you anything about what I was doing?" Alessandre prodded.

Shadowstep frowned darkly, but said nothing. Alessandre exhaled angrily. He knew that was how all rogues covered the fact that they didn't know something, by saying nothing at all. Alessandre realized that the Second in Command had been lying to him about her motivations for following him around Stormwind. Myrielle was just as ruthless as their guild leader.

"Oh, they'll be dead, I'll promise you that." Alessandre got up and rudely pushed past Shadowstep. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep from having to do your bidding ever again!"

Shadowstep looked on quietly, and folded his hands behind his back. He didn't know what Myrielle was up to, but he was going to get very cross if she didn't show up and report soon. Unlike Alessandre, her mission had ended weeks ago. In addition, Shadowstep hadn't got any word from Stormwind for days, even SI: 7 had been too quiet of late… it was imperative for the Master Rogue to know what was going on, at all times.

"She'd better have an excellent excuse for being so late." Shadowstep turned sharply on his heels and walked back to his offices in the Cenarion Enclave.

Author's Note:

Try saying 'Starshatter shadowmelded' three times, and fast!


	18. A good girl does a baad thing

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Eighteen: A good girl does a baaad thing**

Ironically enough, much of Opalbane's resuscitation consisted of dunking her in a moonwell. For much of a week, Priestess Feathershine oversaw the surprisingly delicate procedure. The pale comatose shadowpriestess was bathed in the sparkling aqua water, while her novices chanted sacred hymns, then Opalbane was left to soak in silence for an hour or so. Priestess Feathershine didn't fully trust Benactus' manaburn candles, though there didn't seem to be anything wrong with them. Instead, she used her own tall manaburn candles. The exotic purple wax looked marbleized, and the rich dark blue flames gave off the pleasant scent of lilac. Could one really expect anything less from the Night Elf version of Benactus' treatment?

When Alessandre came by to visit Opalbane, Priestess Feathershine confided in him that Benactus had been on to something when he set out to heal the ex-cultist of her diseased fel mana a month earlier. Alessandre wasn't surprised by this. He'd guessed as much for himself. Priestess Feathershine couldn't make anything of the demonic rune he described. Their little visits were brief, but it was enough for Alessandre to decide that he didn't think ill of the woman. Maybe Opalbane had given him a bad impression of her foster mother, but like all mothers, Feathershine had only been trying to help because she cared so much.

Master Rogue Shadowstep was another matter altogether. Alessandre had never been overly fond of Shadowstep, not the way that Myrielle seemed to adore his methods, anyways. But Alessandre had admired the man, and felt a great deal of respect toward the rogue who'd fiercely held onto power within the Cenarion Enclave for an impressive seventy years. Now, Alessandre hated Master Rogue Shadowstep with a passion. The man was heartless. He didn't care that Opalbane had been on the brink of death; in fact he never even asked Alessandre how she got that way on the ship. Clearly Shadowstep didn't care. He was solely concerned with the thugs and cultist types that kept showing up in Darkshore. Obviously, Opalbane's flight from Stormwind to Darnassus alerted everyone who wanted her as to her whereabouts. No longer swathed under layers of Benactus' secrets, the dark agents swarmed around Darnassus like vultures. Alessandre offered to continue standing guard in front of her room among the Priestess' quarters near the Temple of Elune, but Shadowstep looked at the gorgeous rogue like he had two heads.

"You're an assassin, and I own you until the end of this month. Now, when I tell you to go to Darkshore and kill people for me, you're going to damn well do it!" Shadowstep thundered. Shadowstep was especially annoyed at Alessandre when he came in late to report during the evenings because he'd been visiting with Opalbane. Each day, she was gaining more strength and Alessandre was heartened to see the progress, if only for a few moments. Finally, Shadowstep threatened to make Alessandre stay in Darkshore, instead of traveling back and forth from Darnassus. Alessandre solemnly accepted that if he was going to allow any man on the face of Azeroth to belittle him, it would be the man who held the keys to his future as a rogue… until the month was out.

Opalbane got stronger rapidly. The moonwell in the Temple of Elune was precious to all Kaldorei for a good reason, and it proved its worth a thousand fold. After a time, Priestess Feathershine proudly announced to the young woman that she no longer needed the manaburn candles. Her fel mana was completely gone. Benactus had allowed it to plague her system for too long, until it began to eat away at her health. That disease could be removed completely with regular cleansing spells from her novices. Opalbane was overwhelmed by the constant attention, but in the end it made her feel stronger than she ever did before, and she couldn't really be angry at her foster mother for the excellent care.

The only problem now was seeing the man that she loved. Now that she no longer needed to bathe in the moonwell at the center of the Temple of Elune, a public place, Alessandre couldn't see her as easily. Though she was no prisoner, Opalbane was beginning to feel as confined in Darnassus as she'd been in Stormwind. She wasn't allowed to go anywhere alone. If Sentinels couldn't escort her, Feathershine's many novices were eager to flock about Opalbane wherever she went. The week was almost done, and Shadowstep bragged that he was sending Alessandre back to Stormwind immediately after so that he could round up the key Twilight Cultists and complete the mission on time.

Again, Opalbane felt desperate for love advice. It seemed that without some kind of important catalyst, she and Alessandre would inevitably go their separate ways when his work was done. Or worse, Opalbane had kind of a premonition that she did not take lightly… an overwhelming certainty that Alessandre's life would end if he went back into the lion's den one last time. With his cover blown, and the riot and everything else in Stormwind, it was a hard feeling to just ignore.

Opalbane would have preferred to write her best friend Willypearl, but the response would come back from across the Great Sea by the time Alessandre was already in Stormwind. Living in Ashenvale, Wisthera was closest.

In response to Opalbane's desperate letter, Wisthera wrote:

_Opalbane,_

_Onyx says hello, and that we're coming to see you as soon as we can. Now, as for the answer to your question:_

_This calls for drastic action._ _I'm alarmed to hear that Alessandre hasn't at least slept with you yet… that is a very surprising change in behavior for him, which could be very good, if it means he cares about you, or very bad if it means he's overly focused on his career… or broken. Alright, so it's just my jealousy flaring up again; that man could never break equipment that nice. My point is, telling Alessandre that you just have a 'bad feeling' about his going back to Stormwind won't be enough. You need to make sure he really believes the world is coming to an end if he leaves. Make him think that he will lose you forever if he doesn't make a stand. I know that it sounds impossible for any rogue to stand up against Shadowstep and win, but take me for example: I defied him. I lost my entire career as a rogue, and Alessandre was given my old assignment to investigate the cultists, but… I made it out okay, didn't I? And now, I am living with the man that I love. Sure the house is tiny and the location is terrible with the Horde wandering about these days… but I've got the love of my life, right? _

_And you can too, but you're going to have to throw convention and propriety right out the window. You're going to have to lie, cheat, and steal. The ends will have to justify the means… only trust me in this, not Willypearl, not Feathershine, nobody else. Why, do you ask? Because I am the master when it comes to out thinking people. Don't laugh, you only found out just how devious I was a month ago, and that's after I swindled you and your best friend out of a lot of gold over the last ten years. _

_Alright, ready? _

_This is how it's going to go down. I want you, Opalbane, to pretend like you're hurt. Maybe you could even cut yourself, shed a little blood to make it authentic. Now, don't overdo it. Just give the huge disaster a tiny bit of truth as a foundation so that when Alessandre comes running and finds out that you overreacted, he can't really hate you for it. Next, I want you to come on to him. And I mean, really come on to him. If you're having trouble imagining what to do, just close your eyes and conjure up every dirty little thing you've ever wanted to do to Al… don't dare pretend that you don't have those kinds of thoughts, because we all do, priestess…and then do it for real. Everything except for sex of course. This is where I hope you are at least as perverted as your brother to imagine things other than your typical missionary style, end-all be-all carnal act. Think hard, Opalbane._

_Okay, now is the really hard part. Whether Alessandre falls for you or resists you, you absolutely have to do this. There are no exceptions whatsoever. You have to demand that you won't go to the next part of the relationship—and yes, pretend that you guys really are in a relationship whether that's true or not—until you have a decent Wreathe Day. No Wreathe Day, no sex, got it? He'll be suspicious that you've suddenly developed these lofty morals, but if you insist like the Legion, he'll give in. You can't defy Shadowstep for him, but you can use sex as leverage. In the end, Alessandre won't see it as incurring the wrath of a certain roguish demigod in the Cenarion Enclave, he'll see it as saying yes to a great night with you. The fact that he's not gotten very far with you yet will even be your strength in this situation. Once he's given you his wreathe, he'll be forced to make a commitment to you that you can fully enjoy, for at least a year according to the custom, mission or no mission. That's what your brother Onyxbane and I are doing right now, and trust me, I already feel so much closer to him after making that little commitment. But you have to push Alessandre into it, or rather, guilt him into it…whichever works best._

_If all else fails, insult his manhood. That always works for some reason…_

_I'd tell you to let me know how it goes, but hopefully Onyx and I will be in Darnassus visiting you by then._

_Take care, and be strong sister!_

_Wishthera, Ashenvale Forest._

Opalbane read the letter over and over again, wondering if she would even dare be so cruel to Alessandre. In the end, she concluded that she didn't have the heart to pressure him if he didn't truly want her. Opalbane could live with rejection, but she couldn't live a lie. However, she didn't see anything wrong with taking a little inspiration from Wisthera's letter. It was what she'd done to get Alessandre to go out on a date with her in Stormwind. She would trick him into coming to her, and then they would talk… just talk. Opalbane was a little disappointed that her plan didn't seem as fun as Wisthera's.

_The next day at Opalbane's room in Darnassus…_

"Opalbane! I heard that you were attacked! Did a Furblog really steal into Darnassus, to the Temple of Elune, up the stairs, down the hall, knock on your door and then try to maul your arm? I can't believe that I let Shadowstep keep me away from you…" Alessandre trailed off when he saw the tiny bandage wrapped around Opalbane's wrist.

"I'm not sure why you think that, Alessandre. The messenger clearly blew my summons out of proportion." She smiled at him, then began to pour him some tea. It was lunchtime and Opalbane had a nice meal prepared for them. She motioned for Alessandre to sit. "I didn't say Furblog, I said bullfrog. And he didn't _maul_ me. He hopped into my path as I _strolled_ along the pond and I fell. How silly! Cucumber sandwich?"

Alessandre wasn't an idiot. His expression darkened when he realized what had happened. But then he smiled and closed the door behind him.

"You know, I almost got stabbed in the back sprinting for the boat to Ruth'eran Village." He took a seat and began eating.

"Is it really that bad over there?"

Alessandre nodded and began to explain how the quiet, though slightly smelly, fishing town had turned into a warzone of late. A lot of the young Night Elf warriors had been sent deep into Ashenvale so that they could quest safely. But they were really too weak for the Horde and… err… supersized animal out there. The road between Darkshore and Astranaar was littered with the corpses of the fallen as well as the usual corpses of the stupid people one always saw in the starting areas.

Keeping the Twilight Cultists and Faltheriel's thugs out of the town was too difficult, so the Sentinels were ordered to just let them in. Then, once inside, rogues like Alessandre were supposed sneak around, and get rid of the villains who got too comfortable waiting for the heavily guarded boats to Darnassus. Shadowstep wanted Alessandre on this assignment because he had been working in Stormwind for a while and should know the more dangerous faces. Opalbane cringed when Alessandre admitted between mouthfuls that though he hated Shadowstep, the Master Rogue was actually right about his abilities, as usual. Alessandre's loyalty to the man, even after everything Shadowstep put him through would make for a real challenge.

Opalbane tried to broach the topic of their relationship but Alessandre wouldn't hear of breaking his contract with Shadowstep. Alessandre was clearly too frightened of Shadowstep to go against him, though he used words like _determination_ and _work ethic_ to disguise it.

"But I have this horrible feeling… if you go back to Stormwind now, you'll be killed."

"I could get killed in Darkshore. I could get killed in Darnassus… I could get killed choking on this sandwich." Alessandre shrugged, and finished the final bite. "It's a part of what I do, Opalbane."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then turned to leave. "By the way, I am relieved to see that you are doing well. I was so worried about you, but now that everything's okay… I guess I'll just finish my assignment, and that's it for us." Then, he turned back, thinking better of his statement. Hope shimmered in Opalbane's heart. "Oh, yea, and about the sex… I don't want a repeat of what happened on the ship over here, so we'd better wait. I'll get back to you when I'm free and we'll go back to my place. But I can't promise you that I'll be there in the morning, since with the mission over… the magic will be gone and all that. You know what I mean… rogue business." He mumbled the last part into noncommittal vaguery.

That was when Opalbane snapped.

"Don't you dare!" she shouted at him, and leaned against the door.

"Opal, I really should get back. If you want, I can try to sneak up here later this evening and we can fool around or something, but—"

"There is no later! I want you now!" she seized the sides of Alessandre's face and began to kiss him. He indulged for a moment, then fiercely separated from her.

Opalbane was determined though. Wisthera's words came back to her in a flash, and she let all the forbidden acts that had flooded her mind during the long hours alone in Benactus' cell consume her. Her dark shadowform flared up, then she put two fingers to her temples.

Alessandre stopped his exit immediately. A blank expression on his face, he closed the door again, and locked it. Just outside, two concerned Sentinels flashed watchful looks before the door sealed shut. Next, Opalbane walked Alessandre to the bed and made him lie down. She ripped up the sheets and tied his arms and legs to the bedposts, then released the Mind Control spell.

"Opal! Untie me right now!" Alessandre was alarmed.

"Listen to yourself." Opalbane began to undress and then crawled ontop of him. Her voice was silken but commanding. "Are you really going to fight me? I know that you want me."

Alessandre lurched, trying to break free, then reality sunk in. "Yeah, you're right. Why the hell would I struggle?" he began to smile.

Opalbane lay flat ontop of him and kissed him for a long time. Then, she began to lick his long ears.

"You don't know… what that does to me," he warned, breathy.

"You would be wrong about that, Al." she purred and kept going. After a few moments, he lashed out suddenly, trying to get his hands on her, but the heavy bedframe responded in kind. Alessandre was stuck.

Wisthera was right. This was no time for convention, for decency. Opalbane let her primal self take over. "Al sweetheart… you and I? We have a little problem."

"You're starting to sound like a rogue—" he protested.

"Shut your beautiful mouth." She admonished him for interrupting her, then kissed his lips. "We need to get to the next part of our relationship. _I_ need for you to finally prove to me that you take me seriously, and that this isn't some kind of game."

"Wait, Opal, we aren't in a rela—"

"It was a lovely first date we had, wasn't it? And then, there was that time you took me for a ride on your epic mount… and the cruise… all great dates." Her twisting of terrifying events into the pleasant memories of a normal couple surprised Alessandre. The more he thought that she was having delusions, the more truth he saw in what she was saying. Maybe he had just been doing his job but… all that saving her _had _been exciting, if not a little romantic.

"Now, I'm going to be blunt. All these sweet words, the pet name, the gentle looks, even the dirty looks, are all very nice. But I'm done playing games with you. I need you to finish what you started. Let's consummate the relationship."

Alessandre flexed his hands open in the strong ties as he thought about it. It didn't take very long.

"Okay… this is not how I wanted to do this, but you _do_ have a good point. And, I think I have a half hour before I'll even be missed—"

"Oh, no, no, no." Opalbane clucked her tongue. She sat up and straddled him. Alessandre thought the image of the sultry—and naked—Night Elf shadowpriestess smoking with dark powers of the netherworld was incredibly hot. He knew that he should be terrified, but his heart raced with excitement. He half wanted her to try and kill him with her powers right now. It would be the best kind of death…

Alessandre came out of his fantasies just in time to hear the words _Wreathe Day_. Opalbane waited patiently for Alessandre's response. He hadn't even heard the question.

"What? I can't do that. If I give you my Wreathe, and then sleep with you to make it official, then I'm bound under Darnassian law to live with you for at least a year. Besides, I have to complete this mission for Shadowstep or else Darnassus will be flooded with people who want to kidnap you or worse."

"You can go against Shadowstep! Please!" Opalbane sounded desperate. She lost her sexy edge.

"Opalbane, it would be irresponsible. In fact… I don't see how I can protect you with all of this going on. There are just too many of them." He confided in Opalbane, and she gave up on seducing him. She lay beside him and hugged him instead.

"We can't ever be together if we don't get rid of the cultists." She concluded mournfully. "There would be no point in trying to live that kind of life."

Alessandre mumbled something about how it would really only take one night, not a lifetime, but when Opalbane asked what he said, he just cleared his throat.

"I didn't say it was impossible, Opal." Alessandre reflexively jerked his arm around to rub her back, but the ties around his wrist held firmly around the bedpost. "But maybe killing all of them isn't the way to do it. I'll have to drive them away somehow."

Opalbane nestled in closer to Alessandre as he thought. Then, he asked, "What are the requirements for being a Twilight Cultist? I mean, is there a way to make you ineligible?"

Opalbane shrugged, "Any race or class is eligible, they won't take just any old fool who struts up to the camps in Silithus. You have to be exceptionally talented, and also weak in a certain way… people with a strong desire to belong because they don't already fit into society make better converts because they are least likely to run away. The more heartfelt a person's commitment ceremony, the harder it is to extract them."

"That is why Priestess Feathershine, Onyxbane and the others were able to rescue you, because you were drunk when they initiated you?"

"Yes. If not for that lone fact, I would still be in Silithus now. I was—and am—more than enough of a social pariah for them."

"Well, I can't keep you drunk for the rest of your life." Alessandre frowned. "And you could act like you have more confidence… but that's just too vague, and we can't risk that they won't believe it."

Alessandre tried to recall anything of value from the many conversations he'd eavesdropped on in the last week. Opalbane's darkly glowing naked body pressed so close up against him was an incredibly effective distraction.

"Three things…" he finally sputtered. "Faltheriel said that there are three stipulations to being a High Priestess for Zar'teus… your heritage, your mental state, and your… err… being a virgin. For the first one, I wouldn't dream of hurting you in any way to mar your birthmarks."

Opalbane blinked through the black feral markings over her eyes. The delicate shades covered most of her face.

"We've already decided that the second option is out, but the third…"

Opalbane smiled.

"We'll fake a Wreathe Day!" Alessandre beamed with his idea. "I'll buy flowers, chocolates… we'll set the whole city on fire with our flamboyant date. There are enemy spies enough here to witness the whole thing."

Opalbane began to frown.

"Everyone knows that a Wreathe Day is a celebration that a Kaldorei couple usually sets up because they want to have sex for the first time."

"And because they want to get married eventually, choose to be exclusive, and they also make a promise to live together for a year afterwards." Opalbane piped in. Alessandre didn't seem to hear her.

"I've done it before." He went on, "We'll just make a huge deal out of it, and then when the sun goes down, I'll take you up to one of those tree-top apartments, the kind that only have two walls so that everyone can see. We'll make noises, and the whole nine yards! Everyone will be convinced that you're no longer a virgin, and you'll be useless to them." He smiled.

Opalbane sat up. "Why would we pretend?"

"Because… we aren't going to have a _real_ Wreathe Day, Opalbane. No way am I going through that again. You know what happened to the last woman I gave my Wreathe to."

Opalbane looked sad. "No, I didn't realize that she was your first." Alessandre's first love, the priestess who tried to mutilate him after becoming a cultist in Silithus, would always be special to him. Even if she had hurt him, Alessandre still treasured that singular pain, along with whatever good memories survived after all these years. Opalbane really felt guilty about putting pressure on Alessandre now. He'd taken Wisthera's idea and run with it… leaving the nasty reality of their relationship in its wake. It was mortifying to learn that the man she'd been pursuing desperately this entire time only saw her as a fling. Opalbane silently cursed Wisthera and her bad advice.

"Shadowstep won't like it, but I'm sure it will work. When I'm done with you here, I can finally go to Stormwind and get that damned Faltheriel, and that will take care of the thugs. So, can you untie me now? I have a lot of work to do."

Opalbane made fists. She was tired of being the one picked over, the victim. The frustrated shadowpriestess decided that she was not going to go down without a fight.

"Absolutely not. You'll leave here when I say you can." She forced herself not to say, _And we're going to have a real Wreathe Day, no matter whom you think you love, _but Opalbane finally felt comfortable lying to Alessandre and held it in. Since giving into Wisthera's con to wear the Archmage's stolen ring ten years go, Opalbane decided that it was necessary to be devious once again. If that was what she had to do be happy, to survive, then Opalbane was not going to take any prisoners. Since Alessandre was so much of a lecher, she would definitely get to sleep with him, no matter what. But Opalbane had decided on the first night they spent together in Stormwind that she wanted more than that from Alessandre. She wanted him to be her lover, honest and true. She was sure that he had feelings for her, and she didn't know why sometimes he acted like he cared, and sometimes he pretended he didn't, but she was going to force him to end this silly game of his.

"You're acting strangely again, like you did on the boat, Moonlily. I think maybe I'm making you worse…"

Opalbane cut him off. "Silence! You are mine now, so be obedient." And she began to undress Alessandre. "True torture is never being able to have what you want, no matter how you beg for it in your life. You are about to learn what I've been going through since the day my parents were murdered by demons in Felwood."

"Opalbane, that's not fair—"

"No it isn't, but I am going to make it so. Maybe you can cling to your insecurities and deny me love, but I am going to take my revenge by denying you pleasure. And you are really in trouble because through all our little close encounters back in Stormwind, I learned exactly what you like." When he was completely naked, Opalbane went and tightened all the binds on Alessandre's arms and legs then stood before the bed.

Alessandre briefly considered shifting into one of his feral forms to escape the binds, but he was sure that Opalbane would make certain connections between him and the murders in Stormwind. He couldn't bare for her to find out that he was really a druid, ever.

"I seem to remember that a certain scar of yours is incredibly sensitive." Opalbane fluttered her eyelashes. "I'll start there and work my way up." Her shadowform flared at the thought, and she bent to place ticklish breathy kisses on his feet.

Slowly and surely, Opalbane made it to where the scar ended, near the most sensitive area on Alessandre's body.

Outside the door, the Sentinels raised their long eyebrows at the noise.

"Did you hear that? Should we intervene?" One woman asked the other.

"Are you kidding me? That's Priestess Feathershine's daughter. That poor Opalbane has had a terrible life. I say that if this is the way she gets her kicks, we let her." It was a very compassionate response that could only come from soldiers who had been trained from stalwart priestesses.

"Hmm… I guess it wouldn't be so horrible to just listen to that handsome male elf… with our vow of celibacy, it's as close as we're ever gonna' get anyways." the other Sentinel smiled wickedly.

From even outside the door, one could hear Alessandre begging for Opalbane to finish what she started, but the vengeful woman only laughed cruelly.

"Help me!" Alessandre cried. Then when no one answered, "…are you enjoying hearing me suffer like this? Damn this matriarchy we live in!"


	19. The Wreathe Day that almost wasn't

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Nineteen: The Wreathe Day that almost wasn't**

Opalbane marched angrily up to Alessandre and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around to face her, a sharp pain exploded in the side of his face where she slapped him, hard.

Alessandre flushed but didn't move a muscle.

"I told you to meet me in Ruth'eran Village so that we could process up here."

"It's too dangerous." He said stubbornly. It was a lie.

"Dangerous? For all your bodyguard duties, you let me wait three hours for you, alone. I thought you forgot about me!"

Opalbane was wearing a simple black woolen dress that she still managed to look amazing in. Alessandre tried not to look down into the plunging neckline that was tied up high on dress's empire waist by a delicate black ribbon. How he ached to untie it…

"What you did to me yesterday afternoon was not funny!" He piped up, but he sounded like an immature schoolboy recovering from a misguided prank.

"So that is why you let me writhe there, in front of everyone, like bait on a hook?"

Alessandre kept having bad thoughts about Opalbane in the dress… it agitated him that so much of her body was covered, when on their first date Opalbane had nearly been naked. Wasn't she working a bit backwards? Alessandre left off trying to remove the layers of her outfit with his eyes. If he couldn't keep his mind out of the gutter now, he didn't have a chance of faking it tonight. The worst part was, Alessandre actually managed to convince Master Rogue Shadowstep to go along with his idea. After what Opalbane did to him yesterday afternoon, Alessandre had half-hoped his boss would give a resounding 'No' to effectively giving the clingy shadowpriestess exactly what she wanted.

Alessandre leaned down and picked up the sharp black hat he'd been wearing. It fell off when Opalbane slapped him. The rest of his outfit was casual but polished. An excellent navy shirt, an intense blue even darker than even the rogue's long midnight hair, was tucked neatly into brand new trousers. If he'd wanted to, Alessandre could have laced the shirt collar closed just under his neck, but it lay open and revealed the definition of his collarbone and the start of exceptional dark purple pectoral muscles underneath. The denim-blue light cloth pants were fastened by a new black leather belt. The blue was a definite change from all the dark armor he usually wore. Alessandre had kept on his well-worn black leather boots, however. A slight metallic glint that could only come from the hilt of a blade peeked out just where the tall boots ended a few inches under the knee.

"Yesterday, when I went back to Darkshore…" Alessandre had trouble recounting this, "I couldn't think straight… I was walking funny… I… I was scared out of my wits that I would drop my stealth because I wasn't in my right mind. You are about as distracting as a lunar eclipse when you seduce me."

"It wasn't seduction. It was punishment." Opalbane narrowed her eyes at Alessandre.

Alessandre inhaled deeply, trying very hard not to act on all the dirty thoughts that raced through his mind at the moment. But the prospect of sleeping with Opalbane, even if he was going to fake sleep with her, was starting to overwhelm the wily rogue.

"Alright, I am going to admit something to you." Alessandre couldn't recover from the long silence and gave up trying to hide his feelings. Or, more than likely, it was a roundabout way to vent his frustrations, by telling someone about them.

Opalbane raised both her silken white eyebrows and put her hands on her hips expectantly.

"I have wanted to sleep with you since the first moment I saw you."

Opalbane's heart would have melted right then and there, if she wasn't so sure that she knew Alessandre well by now. This was some kind of shallow declaration of lust, and whatever he was about to say next could not be anything near to the deep feelings she had for him, feelings she was going to make him return, one day.

"And?"

Alessandre was surprised to have been interrupted while confessing something that he thought was romantic. The usually secretive rogue continued, a bit hesitant. "I've never wanted a woman so much before in my entire life. I know that I said you can only know so much about my past Opalbane, but trust me… that is a very long time to go never feeling what I feel for you now. I just…" Alessandre really struggled with this, and Opalbane relaxed.

"It must have been divine intervention that kept me from taking advantage of you on the first night we met in person. I'd spied on you before yes, seen you before… and I'll admit now that a lot of it wasn't just keeping tabs on you, for information. I have an Ornate Spyglass and… well there was a lot of staring involved, to be honest. But that scared the living daylights out of me because after a while, I realized I was looking so much because I was afraid to talk to you! I've never worried about that kind of thing before. You know, sometimes a man just can't show any kind of weakness if he wants to win a woman over. I looked at you, and I could not shake the feeling that you might reject me. Wow, I can't believe I said that."

Opalbane smiled a little.

Alessandre took a deep breath, then folded his hands behind his back. "I've not even gotten around to saying what I want to say yet. Opalbane, I… I…" Alessandre shook his head, trying to get the words out. Finally, he wrapped his arms around her and Opalbane hugged him back. "Goddess, that feels good. Okay, I think I can say it now. I just needed to touch you, in order to feel alright. I was going crazy not touching you. Every moment of every day that I've spent with you, I've wanted to make you mine. Every moment that I was away from you, I've wanted you more. And when those damned… thugs of Faltheriel's," he cringed when he spoke the Blood Elf's name, "kept talking about hurting you, I kind of made this into my personal mission to keep you safe. I've never cared so much about whether or not someone lives or dies… and I see now that it's been too long."

Alessandre pulled away from Opalbane for just a moment. "Please, promise me something?" He asked her.

Opalbane wondered if she was going to lie to him or not. Yesterday she'd declared war on Alessandre's so-called feelings. But now, he didn't seem so shallow.

"Of course, I will, Alessandre." Opalbane looked up into his eyes. Even for a male Night Elf, Alessandre was tall.

Not able to resist, he leaned down and kissed her tenderly. A profound sense of calm washed over Opalbane, and she regretted it when he took his lips from hers.

"Promise me that, no matter what you may hear about me in the future, no matter what kind of news comes from Stormwind, that you'll remember what I just told you?"

"But Al, why would I hear anything bad—"

"No reason. But just in case you do hear something… Please know that I was lost at first but in the end, I changed my mind. I did everything I could to turn my life around during those last few days we were in Stormwind. Everything I did then, I did to protect you, to keep you alive. I'm still hanging around here because I want to finish my mission and make sure that you are safe. Promise me that you won't forget that?"

"Alessandre, you're scaring me." Opalbane took his hands in her own.

Alessandre leaned down and kissed Opalbane. A profound sense of calm washed over the shadowpriestess and she regretted it when he took his lips from hers.

"Shall we go? You're wreathe is waiting with the Herbalist." Alessandre quickly changed the subject. The way he flitted from sincerity to suave nonchalance was aggravating. But, when Alessandre extended his arm for Opalbane to take it she couldn't resist that gentile charm. He began to lead them away, toward the Temple Gardens.

"Oh, and by the way, I know this is your first Wreathe Day so I'm going to give you a little tip: attacking me violently will probably make it obvious that we're not in love."

Opalbane turned the corners of her mouth into a dark frown. "Alessandre, you may be an expert lover, an expert assassin, and a skilled investigator, but you are NOT an expert when it comes to matters of the heart. I think you should allow me to show you exactly how one penetrates through the flesh into a man's _soul_." The word 'soul' was set aflame by the peculiar multi-tonal nether voices that had consumed Opalbane on the ship. Alessandre flinched and decided to keep any further jokes he had about love to himself.

"Opalbane, do you promise to marry me one day in the future, if it's still a good idea and Elune allows us to _even_ live that long?"

Opalbane frowned at Alessandre's emphasis of just how far into the future their imagined wedding day might be. Soft chirps of birds filled the Temple Garden as Opalbane tried to think of clever response to Alessandre's sarcasm.

"Yes, Al." she said. In the end, Opalbane did not have the heart to sabotage her own wreathe day. It meant too much to her.

Opalbane's wreathe had been woven from long-stem white roses. The large white petals almost covered the tiny black ribbons that flowed in and out between the rich green stems. Finally, they made an elaborate knot where it all tied together in the back. Countless delicate loops of ribbon rested against the start of Opalbane's long braid, and then long ends of ribbon trailed down her back. Alessandre took his time fishing the stray strands from inside the back of Opalbane's dress, then came around to face her saying, "I picked out all the materials myself."

He didn't bother asking if Opalbane liked the wreathe. Her delight was plain on her face.

_Oh, how I love you._ Opalbane thought to herself. Whether Alessandre realized it or not, he'd invested a great deal—much more than he needed to—in making the most exquisite wreathe she'd ever seen.

Opalbane was overwhelmed by the care Alessandre had taken to make the day perfect. He'd only been given a few hours of preparation the night before, but he might as well have taken months, years… every single vendor that they visited greeted Alessandre and Opalbane by name, and also referred to them as "the new darling couple" which certainly took some preparation on his part. Then, to top even that, Alessandre bought Opalbane a Heaven Peach from a wandering fruit vendor. He insisted that she eat it immediately, without telling her why. Opalbane hesitated to bite into the ripe peach, but none of her caution made a bit of difference without a napkin of some kind. The sweet sticky juice got all over her fingers and slid down her wrists. Alessandre watched his date struggle with the fruit and a devlish smile grew on his face.

"Oh, do you need some help love?" he chuckled softly, and then licked every drop that stained her fingers. Perhaps he enjoyed himself too much. Alessandre pursued every drop, and rolled up Opalbane's long sleeves to kiss as much of her skin as possible. People in the street stopped and stared.

"You did that on purpose." Opalbane whispered to him, breathy.

"Have another peach, Opalbane." Alessandre insisted again, and narrowed predatory eyes at the shadowpriestess.

And that was how they went from shop to shop in Darnassus, with Alessandre making as many conspicuous romantic attempts possible. Finally, they walked past the Auction House and then along the Warrior's Terrace. A rickshaw driver was waiting there among the Sentinels.

"Alessandre, please don't give me any more peaches… I won't have any room for dinner later, _and_ I don't think I can survive you kissing me or parts of me every twenty seconds."

Alessandre laughed right out loud. "I am treating you like a princess. It's no less than what you deserve." Opalbane half believed that Alessandre had got lost along the boundaries of role-playing love to her and really loving her. The man sounded genuine.

"Speaking of dinner…" Alessandre waved to the rickshaw driver and he greeted the two of them warmly.

Opalbane was shocked. She'd seen empty rickshaws all over Darnassus, but rarely ever saw anyone actually take a ride in one. They were from a period long gone, probably back when her parents were young lovers and places like Felwood and Ashenvale were so safe they were near to paradise… besides being very expensive, the few skilled rickshaw drivers alive could hardly be convinced to traverse through the now hostile wilds.

The ride was slow and deliberate. Curious young owls hooted softly as they came right up to the carriage, and Opalbane patted one of them gently. They passed Nightsabers, but their skilled driver seemed to know exactly where their dens were and expertly weaved them safely through the feline territories.

The royal purple rickshaw suddenly emerged through a screen of interlacing green foliage and into the heart of Dolanaar. Startled young Night Elf soldiers looked on in awe, and Alessandre raised Opalbane's hand and made her wave to the crowd.

"Alessandre! Only Tyrande does something like that." Opalbane worried at how he was showing her off.

"Does Malfurion kiss Tyrande when she rides through Teldrassil?"

Opalbane was confused by Alessandre's question. But she soon found that her answer was irrelevant. Rowdy hollering rose up from the young crowd when the rogue leaned in and gave Opalbane a hungry kiss.

"Don't worry about whether or not you're worthy of this kind of attention, Moonlily. I already told you that you deserve it." Alessandre smiled, very satisfied with himself. As the rickshaw plodded past Starbreeze Village and they neared Aldrassil, Opalbane was so giddy that she could hardly form a coherent thought, no less an objection.

They had dinner by candlelight in a quiet room above the inn at Aldrassil. The top of the enormous treehouse was surprisingly quiet considering there were countless excitable youths running around outside. The starting area wasn't exactly impressive, but it had a certain innocent charm. Opalbane knew from personal experience that many of them were on their very first missions as Kaldorei soldiers. The shadowpriestess couldn't help sharing embarrassing stories of the first few seasons she spent in Aldrassil as a young priestess.

"You must have some stories, too Alessandre. Did you start here also?" Opalbane giggled.

Alessandre swallowed his bite of roasted rabbit, then cleared his throat. Some local vendors had prepared the private room and meal for them. For the starting area, it was surprisingly good.

"Why would you assume that I didn't?" there was menace in his tone.

"I didn't say—"

"You ask because know that I didn't." Alessandre clarified for her. Opalbane cleared her throat anxiously when the heavy silence built up between them. Alessandre stopped eating altogether, and wouldn't look at her.

"Why do I get the feeling that you are testing me?" he challenged her.

"What? No, I'm just—"

"No, it's alright, Moonlily." Alessandre cut off her excuses. "Just what do you think you know about me? I'm curious."

The question sounded incredibly dangerous though. Opalbane was tempted to lie.

"I've never really read your mind about it—"

"That's no excuse. You haven't extracted my past from my mind yet because you can't. I haven't survived this long without picking up some tricks to keep out nosy priests. But please, go on."

Opalbane didn't want to say anymore. "I think you are still a druid." She said evenly. Alessandre's jaw tightened, but he didn't show any emotion. She went on,"You don't have any memories here in Aldrassil because when you started out, Darnassus wasn't even here yet. Am I right?"

Alessandre leaned back in his chair. He looked angry. "Why do you need to know every little thing about me?"

Opalbane scrambled for a good answer that wouldn't make it seem like she was suspicious of Alessandre. She couldn't find one.

"Some day, you are going to ask one too many questions, and you'll be disappointed. Is that what you want?"

"How could you ever disappoint me, Alessandre?"

Alessandre hesitated with his answer. "Look, if you want to go any further than this…" he had a hard time talking about them in a relationship. "I don't know what you want from me, but you don't want to know the real me… you're not even going to want to sleep with me if you learn the truth, so just stop trying to figure out who I am!"

His sudden burst of anger diminished the romance of that entire day. Alessandre realized his mistake and apologized.

"Alessandre… are you trying to scare me away? Back in the tavern in Stormwind I told you that I loved you, and however drunk I was, I meant it. I still mean it. I already know everything that I need to know. Now don't _you _worry whether or not you are good enough for me."

Alessandre laughed cruelly at her. "Oh, I don't worry Moonlily. I know that I'm not good enough for you. You know what, let's just end this now. We shouldn't go any further tonight, fake Wreathe Day or no, because you're only going to get hurt." His voice broke, and Alessandre began to get up.

"Where are you going?" Opalbane demanded.

"I slept with Myrielle." Alessandre announced when he got to the doorway.

"You already told me that—"

"On our first date, after Benactus fooled me—the very same day you said you loved me—I went to the nastiest cathouse I could find, got drunk off my ass and then fucked Myrielle. Are you happy now? I was with her all night long, and most of the morning after, even though I was supposed to be with you. And, if you think that's bad, there's plenty more…" but Alessandre did not have the heart to admit to the rest. He waited in the doorway with his back to Opalbane.

Opalbane cupped her hands over her mouth in shock.

"No forgiveness for me, then?"Alessandre laughed bitterly at himself. "No, I didn't think so. You aren't Elune, priestess. You can't take every man's confession and make all of Azeroth right with him. Sometimes, people are just horrible, cold-hearted, murdering… bastards." Then, Alessandre left.

Opalbane had to sit back down. She stared at her half-eaten dinner for a long time, and then buried her face in her hands. She cried.

Later, at the base of the large treehouse inn, Alessandre pulled the rickshaw driver aside. "Here, this is what I owe you in addition to a generous tip if you'll make sure that Priestess Opalbane gets home safely."

"Sir! Where are you going?"

Alessandre turned away from the man, shaking his head. "To die in obscurity somewhere… if I'm lucky." Alessandre joked to take the sting of what he'd just done, but he only sounded distraught. Then, the rogue started up the road out of Aldrassil alone.

"You dirty, selfish waste of life!" Opalbane ran out of the inn screaming at Alessandre. He shrugged, but wouldn't turn around.

He didn't have to.

The sharp crack of thunder shattered the peaceful silence of the tiny valley. Black energy ripped through the sky and hit Alessandre head on. He fell to his knees and cried out in pain.

The angry shadowpriestess ignored the young soldiers who started screaming. Their little excited shouts were insignificant in her ears. As Opalbane neared Alessandre, her shadowform flared up and the priestess could hear only his shallow gasps of breath.

Opalbane stood over her date and put her hands on her hips. "I am saving you, dammit, whether you like it or not! Now get in that carriage!" she shouted at Alessandre, and pointed to the cowering rickshaw driver behind them.

Terrified, Alessandre struggled to his feet. When he didn't move fast enough, Opalbane swore at him, and threatened to cast another Vampiric Embrace spell. When they got in the carriage, Opalbane wrapped an arm around the ailing Alessandre and forced him to lay his head on her shoulder for comfort.

"Why are you still wearing my wreathe?" he asked weakly.

Opalbane narrowed her eyes at her date. "I told you to leave the manipulation of men's souls to me." Opalbane growled. "Besides, don't you know what real love is?" Alessandre was beside himself with shock.

"You… forgive me?" he gasped.

Opalbane sighed with mock disappointment. "If I tell you my answer right now, you're going to just run away again, and I can't have that." Then she laughed evilly. "I thought a good bodyguard like you would know a kidnapping when he saw one."

Then, the smoking shadowpriestess turned to their driver. "Hurry up there, old man! We have a Wreathe Day to finish in Darnassus tonight, come the Legion or high waters!" Around them, the delicate purple foliage of trees rushed past until it turned into a messy lilac blur.


	20. Three little words solve one big problem

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Twenty: Three little words solve one big problem  
**

"Feel better?" Opalbane finished her healing spell then ushered Alessandre to the bed.

"Maybe, but I still don't understand why—"

"It's not important. Here, lie down." Opalbane started to undress but stopped what she was doing when Alessandre hesitated. "Come on, Al! Do I have to do everything for you?" she began to pull Alessandre's shirt out of his pants.

"Hey!" he yelped when her fingertips brushed something sensitive.

"Sorry," Opalbane shrugged, then her eyes went wide. "Actually, I'm not sorry. I even get to see more of it tonight, don't I?"

"Yes, but we aren't really going to—"

"Hush!" Opalbane pleaded and pushed imbetween Alessandre and the bed. She tugged at him so that he would lay down, but he wouldn't budge. Finally, she wrapped both arms around his neck and began to kiss him passionately. At just the right moment, when Alessandre was distracted, she jumped on him and he lost his balance. He had to fall into the bed, with her, to break his fall.

Darnassus was as quiet as it always was, whether light or dark. It was hard to tell whether or not the cultist spies were watching them now high up in the treehouse apartment. Just as Alessandre had planned, the room had only two walls. On one side, the door to the stairs that led down from the tree was locked. A pale outline on the other wall suggested that the bed had been cleverly lined up against it for years, with the back of the headboard facing the center of the city where most people might see. Night Elves were very close to nature and clearly some people needed the allusion of being outdoors to sleep comfortably… or to do other things comfortably. But the bed had been dragged into the middle of the room and the night breeze sailed in the eastern side of the apartment, passed over the two lovers and then happily floated through the room and out into Darnassus on the western side.

Opalbane was happy to feel Alessandre's full weight on her at last. "Oh, Al." she moaned.

"Opalbane—" Alessandre tried to sit up, but the angry shadowpriestess held him fast. "Alright, fine. I won't move from this spot. But I don't want to go any further until I know what is going on. Why are you okay with the fact that I slept with Myrielle?"

Opalbane tossed her head back, exhausted with the subject. "Because I love you and it doesn't matter, okay?"

Alessandre shook his head. "I might hate myself for saying this later on but… No, Opalbane it isn't okay. It _is_ amazing when people who love each other can get past hurtles like this, but that's usually after they face their demons head on. I don't think I can let you just gloss over this… you'll end up hating me." Alessandre rolled over onto his side. "And no offense, but every time you get mad at me, you try to kill me. At first, I thought it was just the alcohol back in the tavern, but you did it again only a little while ago and you were cold sober." His eyes went wide.

Opalbane forced her eyes shut. "You are going to run away from me again if I tell you. And every time you run away from me because you are afraid to talk about something, you end up doing stupid things.

"Like cheating on you with Myrielle?" Alessandre prodded.

Opalbane exhaled angrily. "No, you see that's the thing. You didn't cheat on me, because technically we weren't in a relationship."

"What? But I—"

"Shush." Opalbane insisted and put a finger to Alessandre's lips. "Okay, so I'm a little manipulative. Yesterday, I put a lot of pressure on you to make you feel like we were in a relationship, and that we'd been on a lot of romantic dates when we really hadn't. It was my desperate attempt to make you love me…. I guess this is where I should say that I'm sorry, but I'm not."

Alessandre considered this for a moment. "You can't fool me so easily, Opalbane. I _am_ a rogue, afterall. I saw right through that."

Opalbane looked truly lost. "Then why did you agree to go along with this Wreathe Day? There _are_ other ways of saving my life you know."

"Well, not only was it a very good idea… I sort of agreed with you. You know, all that saving your life was pretty romantic. Sure, it was dangerous, but I got to be your hero over and over again. I like doing that for you."

Opalbane smiled wide.

"But," Alessandre pressed further, "Going to Myrielle on that night was wrong, when I knew how you felt about me. If I cared about your feelings at all, then I would not have done that. I wish that I'd just ignored all Benactus' meddling and gone straight to you that night, to see exactly where things were between us. I'm sorry, Opalbane."

Opalbane caressed the side of Alessandre's face. "Hearing you say that means a lot to me, Al. But, you see, I'm not really that mad at you. You were the one who helped me to understand that Benactus was out to ruin what we have; you're only just now allowing yourself to see that you _do_ have feelings for me that Benactus manipulated that night. And, it's obvious to me that Benactus wasn't the only one taking advantage of you when you were feeling so low. I mean, just how did Myrielle know you would go to that very whore house? She must have been watching you Al."

Alessandre's eyes widened with realization. He'd been distracted keeping tabs on so many other people and trying not to get caught by the Stormwind Authorities that he never considered it. In fact, he was so low down on his luck that day, Alessandre had wanted to believe Myrielle found him, dressed the way that she was, on sheer coincidence. He'd wanted to feel good about himself that desperately.

"Goddess! You're right, Opalbane."

Opalbane nodded solemnly. "But right now, love… there is no Myrielle, no Shadowstep, no Benactus, no Stormwind… just you and I. And this Wreathe Day is far from over."

Alessandre leaned up on an elbow and took off his shirt. "You're right, Moonlily. And I was a fool to make you wait."

Alessandre was enjoying himself so much that he never got around to explaining to Opalbane just how he was going to fake intercourse with her. Opalbane wisely resisted asking. He removed Opalbane's clothes first and hovered over her, kissing every inch of her moonlit skin. She responded well to his caresses and moaned softly into his ears. Then, she reached up and began to lick them…

"Hey, you stop that." Alessandre chuckled softly, and pulled away from her. "You know what that makes me do."

Opalbane narrowed her eyes at him. "Would it really be so terrible? And I've been a very good girlfriend so far, by not nagging you to take off your boots while in the bed."

Alessandre sat up and removed his boots, as well as the rest of his clothing.

"Actually, I'm glad that you reminded me, Opal. I almost lost myself a little while ago. I forgot that I wasn't really supposed to be doing this."

Opalbane tried to hide her disappointment.

"You know what I told you the other day, about needing to be with you… I really meant that. I'm glad that you forgive me about the Myrielle thing, because I truly want to make love to you."

Opalbane wanted to scream with joy. "When we first met, you told me there was a difference between just having sex and making love… so you're sure that you want to _make love_ to me?"

Alessandre laughed. "So I did. I even think I put it very rudely… but yes. The difference between the two is that I want to take my time with you and do it right, not just get off pent up frustration… is that okay with you?"

Opalbane wanted to leap into the air, do cartwheels around the entire room. She imagined that Alessandre might not even object to her naked cartwheels, and had to giggle her little mental joke. "Oh yes, that's wonderful. Does that also mean… if a person wants to make love with someone, does that mean they also _love_ that person?"

Opalbane hated herself for asking, but if Alessandre never came out and said it, she'd never know for sure. The dream of making him into her true love was still with her. The shadowpriestess was so anxious for the happy ending that she clawed the down mattress to keep from leaping off the bed to do those cartwheels.

"Opalbane…" Alessandre began in a tone that was not jubilant in any measure. "I can't really sleep with you tonight because I don't want to end up making that kind of commitment to anyone. The spies will hear us and believe, but we can always prove it was a farce to Darnassus later… Besides, I just can't feel that kind of thing anymore. I thought I told you about Arianna?"

Opalbane was shocked to hear Alessandre speak the name of his first love at last. Opalbane tried not to show it in her face, lest she make the mistake obvious to Alessandre.

"Yes, you told me about her." Opalbane said quietly.

"My heart died on that day, when I couldn't save her. In fact, there are too many freakish coincidences between Arianna and yourself. What happened to her a while back in Silithus happened to you too... Now, on this night, I am about to save you through this Wreathe Day, but she was the first woman to wear my wreathe, and I couldn't save her… And then, there's the fact that she was also a priestess… thankfully, the two of you don't look the same. Evenso, there are far too many coincidences that make this incredibly hard for me. That is the other reason we have to wait, besides the fact that I can't ever make that commitment to you. My heart will allow me to make love to you, even knowing what I do about your past… but I don't know how I could bear a whole year or even a lifetime of caring for someone who reminds me of her so much. For her sake… can you help me make sure that I don't go too far tonight?"

Opalbane's eyes went wide. She suddenly fancied writing a letter to Priest Benactus asking him about the dead cultist Arianna. Opalbane wanted to find Arianna's dried up remains and spit on them for breaking and simultaneously stealing this wonderful man's heart for countless years. But that was the old cultist habit acting up again. Opalbane quickly decided that there was no way that she was going to forgo sleeping with Alessandre out of respect for his dead ex-girlfriend.

But, at least Opalbane finally understood why Alessandre was acting so strangely. He wanted to love Opalbane so badly, but to do so would be the worst kind of betrayal, worse than what Arianna did to him in Silithus. Clearly it was hurting him to let go after all these years, and Opalbane suspected that it had been much longer ago than the twenty years he was obviously lying about. Alessandre had drawn so many shields around himself since his time as a druid in Silithus that he was finally in denial about his feelings now that he'd fallen in love again. Maybe Alessandre even thought his feelings for a new woman were wrong.

"Oh, I'll help you alright." Opalbane said, narrowing her eyes deviously.

"Good." Alessandre said with a shudder. "After this is all done, and you are safe, we can go to the place I have in Ashenvale and we can make love. Lots of… really… great, noisy… well you get the idea. I promise that I will give you that at least. I've already made you wait too long for it. Then, when we're finally done, we'll both feel amazing, and renewed before going our separate ways. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Opalbane made herself stay calm. Maybe Wisthera gave really bad advice, but she sort of wished that the wily con artist was here now. Opalbane needed to figure out how to make Alessandre sleep with her tonight without breaking his heart.

There were no sheets on the bed for the benefit of the cultists. Before they started up again, Alessandre assured Opalbane that he saw some shady types watching. Normally, that would send shivers through people who were about to engage in something so intimate, but it reassured Opalbane. Her life depended on this. Alessandre told her that during their Wreathe Day earlier, he thought he noticed some strange Kaldorei lingering around them, following them with judgmental gazes.

"Help me to disappoint them now, Moonlily." Alessandre pressed Opalbane into the bed. He moved ontop of her, and Opalbane swallowed hard, trying to build up the resolve to strike against him with her betrayal. There was one big problem with that though. Opalbane had a fairly good idea of what to do, but she was starting to see that there was no way she was going to make Alessandre go through with it without his help.

But, if she used a Mind-Control spell…

"Al, stop." Opalbane pushed him off of her. "I can't do this. I can't pretend." Opalbane could not bring herself to use something like that on Alessandre, not if he didn't mean it.

Alessandre was breathing heavily but he forced himself to speak through the lust racing through his body. "Nor can I. This is too difficult for me." he reached his arm out to touch Opalbane's shoulder, but he was afraid of what he might do if he touched her again and let it fall short.

Opalbane stroked her braid as she thought. "Al, do you know why this is hard for us? Because when two people feel the way that we do about each other, they can't pretend. They can't… lie and play games with each other. It hurts too much. Goddess knows that I love you. I can't make you want me, I can't make you love me." Opalbane blinked back tears. "The only thing I can do is—"

"But I _do_ love you.'"

Alessandre's words filled up the air around them. They echoed, or perhaps the night wind came again and carried them, made them soar imbetween those two wooden walls.

Opalbane turned to him. Now that he'd really said it, she didn't know what to do… she felt helpless in the face of how beautiful that gesture was. To overcome whatever lifelong trial that forced Alessandre to become a rogue, to put up with people like Master Rogue Shadowstep, and consistently hurt women like Wisthera and Myrielle for years and years… but he'd fought all of that, and he'd said it at last. He'd said it to her, Opalbane.

Alessandre took Opalbane's hand. He looked into her eyes and said it again, slowly. "I love you."

Then, he said it a third time, with more confidence. "Goddess! I love you, Opalbane. I knew that I did, but I was afraid to… but I'm not anymore."

Opalbane hugged Alessandre and cried onto his shoulder. "I'm so glad… I knew you could do it, sweetheart, I knew you could. Thank the goddess."

"So, what do we do now?" Alessandre stroked Opalbane's back. "I don't think I can go through with this."

"Yes, you can." Opalbane's voice was muffled through her tears and because she was speaking into Alessandre's bare shoulder. "I love you. I will help you. We can make this commitment together. We can live together for a year, and think about marriage."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can!" Opalbane started to get angry. She pulled back and held the sides of his face in both hands. She looked into his eyes. "If you truly want to do this--and I can tell that you do--then I will help you. There is no reason to be afraid. I can't promise that I won't make a mistake and hurt you, no woman can. But I do promise that I will do everything in my power to show my love, each and every day."

"You've already been doing that for me." Alessandre laughed softly and began to kiss one palm of Opalbane's hands.

"So then you know that it won't be much different. You've already been living with my love. Only this time, we'll be in that house of yours somewhere in Ashenvale, and not in some cold cell in Stormwind."

Alessandre removed both of her hands from his face and looked away from Opalbane.

Opalbane waited, it seemed, forever for Alessandre to make up his mind, to say anything at all.

"Al, you told me that at some point during the last few days in Stormwind you decided that you were going to see this mission through to keep me safe. I know that means you had different motivations beforehand." She watched Alessandre struggle with this painful truth, then went on, "But that is in the past. All of it is. What matters is what you do here and now."

After a time, Opalbane added. "Why don't you do what you came to Darnassus to for, and save me?"

Alessandre didn't say anything at all at first. He kissed Opalbane gently and she lay back down. Then he lay ontop of her. They caressed each other lovingly, but their gestures became more panicked and desperate as the heat between them rose. Finally, they were holding onto each other for dear life. Opalbane begged to Alessandre with her moans and the experienced lover stopped holding back. Fearlessly, Alessandre left the world behind and focused all his energy on the woman he loved. He leaned in and gave her everything of himself that he had to give.

"Don't be afraid." He breathed heavily over Opalbane. "Saving you is the very least that I can do for the woman I love. But making love to you for the first time--_your_ first time--is more important to me than some silly mission." Then, he smiled. "After this is all done, we'll have an entire year to perfect it. But for now, let me show you how love is made." Alessandre's words comforted the shadowpriestess, and they turned the pain into something sweet.

The suspicious Twilight Cultists waiting down below and on rooftops far away could not interfere. They looked on anxiously for any sign that it was an act, or hoped that the two would hesitate again. But it soon became clear enough that Zar'teaus' high priestess was ruined. In the end they had to look away, thwarted at last.

_That same night, at the Cenarion Enclave in Darnassus…_

"Master Rogue Shadowstep?" Myrielle Fadeleaf entered the office of her mentor and saluted.

"The only reason that I'm not on the roof keeping an eye on my favorite agent at the moment is because I heard you finally got your sorry ass back here." Shadowstep leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on his cluttered desk. Papers were pushed aside and floated helplessly to the floor.

"Whatever you have brought to my desk today better be damn well worth it. I really wanted to see the look on those cultists' faces when Alessandre showed them up once and for all."

Myrielle pushed the long hood of her cloak back and handed Shadowstep a scraggly stack of yellow papers. He frowned at the condition of her report but then removed his feet from the desk and started to read through it.

Myrielle pushed a stray blue hair from her face and leaned on the desk, clear over what Shadowstep was reading.

"I'll sum it up for you. Your star agent, Alessandre, whom you want to give your job to right now instead of myself, is the notorious druid murderer. And don't stare at me like that. I saw it with my own eyes. Now we know that it was only one person hunting men on the streets of Stormwind over the last two hundred years and not some cult of druids, or even some kind of mysterious plot by the Horde. And there's a riot going on there right now, all because of him."

Then, Myrielle folded her arms across her chest and straightened. Her knee-high red leather boots creaked. "Now, are you going to sentence Alessandre to death or should I? Because I'd love to finally get that sonofabitch back for everything he's done to me."


	21. Cold Case, Darnassus

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Twenty-One: Cold case, Darnassus**

"Don't you see, Shadowstep! All the evidence our guild has been collecting over the years, before even you came into power, points to one murderer. The patterns were too consistent for it to be any other way. But we were forced to take up false leads, maybe we were even forced to make up some of them, because of the impossibility of it all. One man, who can live almost entirely in stealth, who is a druid but can't be held accountable by druids, who is also a rogue, but one that no entity in the Alliance has any record of… of course we couldn't pin the killer down, of course we couldn't settle on a name. The truth was in front of our faces this entire time. Everyone knows that _Alessandre_ is an alias of some kind."

Master Rogue Shadowstep frowned as he continued to read Myrielle's report. He did not seem convinced.

"Many rogues have false names, Myrielle."

"Yes, but Alessandre took his name the way that a Troll takes a tiger's bones to make a necklace, or shrinks an enemy's head and carries it into battle."

Shadowstep squinted an eye at Myrielle.

"Alright, so my analogy isn't the best, but what I'm trying to say is, Alessandre is savage in that way. He's part animal and part man. He doesn't think clearly… he took the name from that monster in Westfall twenty years ago as a trophy and then started _acting_ like a professional rogue. When he gets tired of that, what next? Will he kill you or I and then start acting like the Master Rogue? He's sick!"

"Myrielle," Shadowstep growled. "Normally, I trust your instincts, but what you are saying doesn't make much sense. I fear you might be too biased against him and that you are imagining things. If Alessandre is the same druid murderer that the Cenarion Enclave has been investigating for the last two hundred years, then your pegging the start of his rogue career to the Defias raid on Westfall about two decades ago doesn't fit. We're looking for someone who can live entirely in stealth, but that person is not Alessandre if he only learned how to be a rogue twenty years ago."

Myrielle paced back and forth, trying to clarify her suspicions. "But I'm not the only one who thinks Alessandre became a rogue about twenty years ago. Lots of people do."

"Which people?" Shadowstep inquired. He'd gone into his desk for a monocle and started reviewing a certain page of Myrielle's report very carefully.

"Well… mostly female people. But it's only natural for us women to remember it best. Alessandre is the type of man who would leave an impression on us."

"We're not going to talk about that." Shadowstep grimaced and got up from his desk. He scanned a nearby bookshelf then reached up and pulled down a thick record book. When he heaved it onto his desk, another flurry of papers was rustled up and then floated off the desk onto the floor. "But there _is_ something about his reputation with the ladies. It does seem to be Alessandre's one weakness."

Myrielle nodded eagerly. She was about to say something more when Shadowstep cut her off.

"Tell me, Myra, how did he explain his past to you when you two were dating? Maybe he slipped up there somehow."

Myrielle blushed. "Sir… it's rather embarrassing. Our relationship was mostly physical to be honest."

"No it wasn't. Or else, you wouldn't be wearing your heart on your sleeve like that. Do you really believe that I'm oblivious to the fact that he's essentially having a Wreathe Day—fake or not—with his new girlfriend as we speak?" Shadowstep sharply corrected her. "Now, what did he tell you?"

Myrielle looked very uncomfortable to be so transparent, but then she sighed and gave in. "Well, that he'd always been a rogue but that he didn't have the best of luck. He seemed to imply that he was one of those dangerous types that always hung out in Cutthroat Alley. But he would always insist that about twenty years ago he renewed his rogue training and started over fresh."

Shadowstep smiled. "A likely story. It's also an alibi of sorts. If a man like that is running from his past, then he's got no reason to be anywhere near Cutthroat Alley." Shadowstep paused. "Then, again, the fact that Alessandre connected himself to the place might have been a way to explain any extra time he spent there."

"Or, it could be a confession." Myrielle offered.

Shadowstep looked at her critically from over his monocle. "No, dear, I don't think so. This is not a man with a guilty conscience, if he is our killer. This is a very disturbed person with an addiction. Night Elves always lived long lives until recently when the World Tree was destroyed. No one wants to believe this sort of thing because it's hard to accept about everyday people, but the truth is, when you live for hundreds of years it's easy to slide off the straight and narrow. You'd be surprised at just how many notable people today have criminal records in these books." And he swept his hand over the many shelves of dusty old record books in his office for emphasis. The many volumes were also all over the floor. Some of them were piled so high that one could not see out of the lone round window in Shadowstep's office. More than likely, that one window had been covered up on purpose.

Shadowstep tapped a particular page in the current book he was reading. "See here, a man named Ebon was thrown in the Stockades for a series of murders in Cutthroat Alley just about twenty-five years ago."

"A Kaldorei?"

"Yes, and he's got Alessandre's physical description. He was supposed to die by hanging, but he escaped."

"A lone, unarmed man escaped from Stockade guards? That's hard to believe."

Shadowstep shrugged. "It happens. Mostly, it happens when the criminals are abnormally talented." The Master Rogue raised his eyebrows at Myrielle over the book he was reading to make sure that she got his point. "I'm starting to like your report more and more, Second Commander." He conceded.

"But there's a five year gap imbetween the time that this Ebon escaped and a Night Elf named Alessandre shows up in their records." Myrielle pointed to a line of text on the next page. "Same physical description, but mostly petty theft."

"That just means the guy laid low for a bit before starting up again under a new alias. Happens all the time. I'm sure there are lots of other names Alessandre used before Ebon."

"And you're sure it's the same person?"

Shadowstep leaned back in his chair. "I'm not going to pull down all the record books and point out every single entry where an exceptionally tall male Night Elf with a dark complexion and midnight blue hair stole a loaf of bread, or attacked petty thieves hanging out in Stormwind's Cutthroat Alley. I like going back through the Stormwind records from time to time, and I already know that there's a pattern. It just didn't make any real sense until now. The details of your report seem to put it all together and it's not just some kind of illogical coincidence to me anymore, since so many elves fit that description. But I can give you a bit of relationship advice for future reference." Shadowstep smiled.

Myrielle sat on her mentor's desk and folded her arms across her chest. "Sir, I really don't think that my personal life—"

"Twenty years is about the time it takes for someone to grow up and have kids. That's one generation. Whenever a man tells you that he did this or that about twenty years ago—especially if he's a rogue—he's probably lying."

"Why do you say that?"

"Myrielle, what were you doing twenty years ago?"

The Second Commander thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm not all that old, Shadowstep. I was little baby."

Then, Myrielle understood. Lives changed completely in twenty years. Eventhough Kaldorei once lived long lives, the stage of life still transformed someone. It would always be most likely that if you said something happened twenty years ago, the person you were talking to wouldn't remember back that far, or if they did, that time in their life was so different from the present, that it would feel like a lifetime ago, too far away.

"And so, if Alessandre told you that he wasn't a rogue, or at least a noteworthy one twenty years ago, you have no real reason to believe him, do you?"

Remembering any part of her relationship with her ex-boyfriend was a sore note for Myrielle, but this took the cake.

"Do we have enough evidence against Alessandre to get him locked up?"

"Hold on, now Myra." Shadowstep warned, and slipped her raggedy report from under the thick record book. He began to read it again. "This is all mostly speculative except for your one firsthand encounter, but combined with the evidence the guild has been collecting over the years, it should make a reasonable case against Alessandre. At the very least, it's enough to try him before a Priestess in Darnassus."

"What!" Myrielle flared. "But he's Stormwind's criminal. The people in the city are rioting right now, Humans, Dwarves, and Gnomes, all fighting Kaldorei—druid or not—because of what Alessandre did. I barely made it out alive myself. Doesn't the Alliance deserve justice?"

"Be very careful how you define justice, Myrielle."

Myrielle seethed. She didn't like where this was going.

"What you've done is amazing. I was hoping to retire very soon and that seemed to send shockwaves through the rogue community. I've had people coming in here with presents to thank me for a job well done, or worse, bribes to get certain things taken care of before I leave and new unfamiliar leadership takes over. I never thought, never in my hundred years of life, that this case would get solved. You are the one who finally put all the pieces together, and that was without the benefit of my familiarity with Alliance criminal records."

Myrielle smiled sadly. "I thank you, Master Rogue, but I can't help the feeling that you are buttering me up for something."

"You've cracked the biggest case in Darnassian history, but I'm sorry. There will be no parade in your honor or shiny medal. This has to stay in house."

"We're covering this up?" Myrielle got up and pushed away from Shadowstep's desk angrily.

"No. I didn't say that. I just said that I want Darnassus to take care of it. We can't go handing one of our own guild members over to SI: 7. It will make us look bad, or in the worst case, confirm the prejudice against Night Elves already bubbling over in Stormwind. Have you ever considered that they might see our guild as corrupt for not catching the culprit in our midst sooner?"

"Alessandre is _not_ a member of Kaldorei Rogue Network." Myrielle insisted. "He never really signed up with us until you hired him for the cultist mission some weeks ago. And even then, he became affiliated with us under false pretenses, since he was never a rogue to begin with. Secondly, his actions—as a serial killer—certainly disqualify him now."

"Alessandre is an assassin at the moment, not a serial killer. After his trial, we'll know just who he is."

Myrielle stamped her foot angrily in her excellent red boots. "The evidence is right in front of our faces! He's one of the most terrible people on the face of Azeroth, as remorseless as a Troll, as bloodthirsty as an Orc… and you're just going to get him off the hook because he's in our guild? This man doesn't even deserve to be a part of the Alliance."

"Watch it there, Myra. No Kaldorei will ever be compared to the Horde again in my presence. I've seen what they can do. You couldn't even imagine the kind of evil you are trying to attribute to one of our own." Shadowstep pointed a finger at her.

"But you are making every excuse not to bury him. Why in Azeroth are you defending that freak of nature?"

Shadowstep was quiet for a long moment. He propped his boots up on his desk. "Because, like you, Myrielle, he's an impressive agent. There are three kinds of rogues. The first kind is good at figuring things out, like you. The second kind of rogue is the most dangerous. They use their minds to destroy people. These are the ones who play god by holding onto information forever, and blackmailing people. They pull invisible strings deftly from the sidelines without anyone suspecting." Then he raised an eyebrow at her. "So far, I'm the only rogue like that in our guild. Rogues like me are incredibly useful because we can keep everyone on their toes. Mostly though, since they have so much power, they can't be trusted… but of course I can always trust myself to act in my own best interest." He chuckled. "But then again, when I retire, we won't have any rogues like that in our organization at all. Maybe you don't realize it now, Myrielle, but I've been managing a lot of things for Darnassus behind the scenes. There will be a void when I leave if the next Master Rogue can't juggle the secrets as well as I've been doing."

Shadowstep yawned, then continued. "Finally, the third kind of rogue is good at taking people out. Here at the Cenarion Enclave, we are running dangerously low on assassins, for obvious reasons. But Alessandre has survived--well, I'm going to look up exactly for how long in a moment--but right now we know that it's been longer than two hundred years at the least. He's been taken into custody, but never truly been caught because he's very good at leading a double life. And druid or rogue, or both, it is very difficult to make that many kills and not leave a substantial scrap of evidence. All I have to go on are meticulous records of criminals that SI: 7 keeps. You were lucky enough to have some very close encounters with Alessandre in person. By the Legion! Priestess Opalbane has clearly fallen in love with him and even with her Mind Vision spell, she hasn't a clue. Nor does Priestess Feathershine, her foster mother. I know that woman well; she would never let a man like that get near her daughter. And to top it off, both Feathershine and myself agreed to hire Alessandre for the bodyguard work in Stormwind, after doing extensive background checks. We could not find one thing that made Alessandre seem anything less than the polished professional assassin that we thought he was. Well, we knew that he was a ladies' man, or at least I did, but I didn't tell Feathershine about it. She's far too picky. Anyways, imagine what our guild would be capable of if we could just control someone like that—"

"No. I won't be a part of this. Shadowstep, this is wrong."

Shadowstep glared at Myrielle when she came to a stop in her pacing in front of his desk. "What's wrong and what's right? I know Feathershine well, and I will see to it that she gets appointed to this trial. She is going to find him guilty and I'll guide her in selecting a horrible punishment for our serial killer that is threatening to rip Darnassus right out of the Alliance because of his actions. Then, when faced with the choice, either the monster will decide to revel in his sinfulness, or Alessandre the man will choose to atone for his wrongdoing." Shadowstep scratched his beard as he thought about his plan.

"And just how is he going to serve his sentence and still help us? You can't predict Feathershine's mind exactly, you know." Myrielle pouted.

"It doesn't matter what she says really, or even what Alessandre decides to do. Either way, Alessandre will end up working for me. And if you want my job at all, you're going to go along with it, understand?" Shadowstep raised his voice a little at the end. Myrielle bit her lower lip anxiously, but she knew that she would do it. Her job was her passion, her life.

"And, if it makes you feel any better, since this secret is going to stay between us, it would be very easy to just hand his leash off to you when I retire." Shadowstep mentioned afterward, a bit apologetic for the tone he'd taken with someone who was already so loyal. "That is, if you still prove worthy enough for my job."

Myrielle couldn't help smiling. "I think I'm the only one who's handled working with you well. You know, some rogues might consider being bound to you for eternity a fate worse than death."

A wicked grin grew on Shadowstep's face. "Why thank you, Myrielle. That is the best compliment I've had in a very long time."


	22. A deadly libido, take Two

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Twenty-Two: A deadly libido, take Two**

Opalbane slid her fingertips down Alessandre's sweaty back. He grunted softly with every rhythmic thrust. She ground her teeth to keep from losing herself, but Al was making that impossible for her. How many times had he worked her up to the brink of bliss only to withdraw and leave her feeling helpless?

"More," she begged after each time. Alessandre would look up at her, amazed, from where he lay on his side nearby. He would caress Opalbane's cheek gently and struggle to catch his breath for a few moments. Opalbane felt she would cry with frustration while she waited for him. Then, he would press her into the mattress and try again.

Alessandre never told anyone this, but he liked to keep count. It amused him to track how many times he could please a woman one night, and then if he had another with her, he'd try to break that record. It delighted him to see his partner writhe on the brink of madness as he pushed his endurance to the limit every time. They did not know he had the appetite of an animal inside of him, but Alessandre did. Having sex with a woman was the one opportunity he had to confess a little about his past. He watched the disbelief in their faces, the awe, as he stiffened and came again and again without being asked. He knew that they were wondering how he was able to do it. The truth was right in front of them and Alessandre wanted to laugh in their faces because they would never know. Who would ever guess such a thing?

But Opalbane was different. Alessandre had been leaning up on his forearms all night long. The muscles were strained and they trembled when he put pressure on them. He did not dare ask to rest. The rogue just hoped that this time—what was it, the ninth? The tenth?—would be what it took to satisfy the woman he loved. But Alessandre was starting to accept the fact that Opalbane had an even more terrible appetite than he did, now that it had been awakened. His mind roved back to the time on the ship, when she'd tried to force herself on him at the first opportunity. She really did have some kind of supernatural hunger… but where did it come from? Was his fel mana still affecting her somehow? Maybe they were like magnets that pulled at each other forever, or volatile alchemical mixtures that seethed and bubbled over when forced into the same vessel. Alessandre found himself feeling as nervous as if this were the first time he was making love. His partner was another creature entirely in the bedroom. Not that he was really complaining.

Opalbane gave a little whimper and Alessandre tried to continue on for her sake but he just couldn't. He exhaled deeply when he finished and withdrew again. Opalbane struggled to compose herself. She shuddered and Alessandre wrapped his strong arm tight around her shoulders.

"Moonlily," he started when he could breathe again, "Is something wrong?"

Opalbane couldn't answer. She was too busy trying to catch her breath.

"I've never… it's never been like this for me before. I don't want to stop, but… I think I have to now." Alessandre had no idea what time it was. Darnassus was still very dark, and if possible, even more quiet. A very large and full white moon dominated the night sky.

"Please Al, don't. I love you so much."

Alessandre kissed his lover's forehead. "I love you to. That doesn't change. I will love you whether or not we are together like this. I will love you when I am sleeping. I will love you in the morning and every day after."

"You don't understand," Opalbane pleaded. Her voice sounded strange, and she began to tug at him.

Alessandre hated to put his foot down in a situation like this. He couldn't believe that he actually considered putting a stop to lovemaking this good. "I might kill myself if I keep going." He half-joked.

That was when Opalbane's shadowform flared up. Her glowing white eyes fixed on his and she pushed out of Alessandre's embrace. "Finish thisss…" she hissed at him. Alessandre flinched. "Alessssandre…" The spooky demon voices that had consumed Opalbane on the ship were back.

"No…" Alessandre gasped. "There's no way. You're cured! Why are you like this again, Opal?"

Opalbane didn't answer him. She climbed ontop of Alessandre. He tried to move away, but she leaned on his wrists.

"Dear Elune! I think I broke her!" Alessandre's eyes went wide.

The beautiful shadowpriestess was illuminated by the enormous moon. The shades of her shadowform caught in the white light and brilliant blues, greens, and violets flashed as the dark smoke energy wafted off of her skin. "I will finish… you will yield to me…" the many demon voices throbbed with Opalbane's sultry warcry.

Alessandre was mesmerized by the woman's deadly beauty.

He opened his mouth to beg mercy, but Opalbane leaned in and stole his breath with her kisses. Then, she mounted Alessandre and forced him into her. The confident lover was overcome and Alessandre writhed as he felt her dark spells seep into him. Pain pulled at his joints, numbed his mind like the Vampiric Embrace spell back in Aldrassil. Alessandre had fought priests before. He knew what shadow words of pain felt like. He steeled himself against the blasts to his mind, the manaburn spells that Opalbane should not have known he was susceptible to. He lay there, an unwilling host for this madwoman that he loved, wondering when his life would finally give out. But, at some point, the pain of her dark spells began to feel good. The savage fear of death grated close to his feral instinct and a very primal part of Alessandre began to rage against it. He did not know himself then. At that point, he couldn't think. Raw emotion surged up inside of him and the once druid lashed out against the woman on top of him. Alessandre broke free of Opalbane's painful grasp and sat up. He kissed her angrily then pushed the darkly glowing woman underneath him. With renewed strength, he met her every challenge. Opalbane had lost control of herself, and cast more and more shadow words of pain. At one point, she even flayed his mind, but Alessandre raged against the blue energy that leapt from the palm of her hand into his chest. He sweated and grunted angrily as he took control of the situation. He arched his back over her and pressed through the pain, with every ounce of his strength. And then, somewhere outside of himself, he thought he heard a deep, roiling feminine moan of pleasure. The last thing Alessandre saw before he passed out was the smile on Opalbane's face. It was exquisite.

Sometime the next morning, Opalbane roused Alessandre again. He was sleeping very deeply and did not want to wake up. He'd never felt so exhausted before in his life. But the little priestess was insistent and Alessandre finally managed to open his eyes for her.

"Alessandre, please make love to me." She asked in the softest voice.

Alessandre wanted to laugh. How many times had they done just that the night before? All the muscles in his body were sore. It ached to even move her into position underneath him. But after a few moments, they found their rhythm.

This time was completely different from the last. Opalbane gave in much earlier than she had the previous night, but before she was completely finished with Alessandre, she ran her bare hands up the length of his back, and filled him with the healing powers of the Light. He moaned deeply with the pleasure that brought him. It was a while after though, that he realized Opalbane had not stirred him awake for the lovemaking itself. She seemed to realize what she had done to him the night before, how much she'd taken away with her shadow power, and had just finished with her strongest healing spell to restore him.

Alessandre slept very well after that.

Yellow morning sunlight greeted Alessandre when he next woke up of his own accord. The woman he loved slept soundly nestled against his shoulder. He carefully ran his fingers through Opalbane's long white braid that had come undone during the night. Her hair was beautiful, felt beautiful. Ever your typical male elf, he fought back a tinge of jealousy.

"Wow." He allowed himself to exclaim at last. He'd been with countless women in the past, but this was the first time Alessandre had really felt something. At first, the sex had been sweet, then some time during the night it had become painful. Next, when Opalbane let herself completely go it had become deadly, then he responded to her and the lovemaking between them transformed into something primal and savage. Never before had he truly been able to indulge himself with someone else. Alessandre realized that with other women, he'd been holding a part of himself back. It felt like all other encounters before this one, even the joyous times he'd spent with Arianna in Silithus several lifetimes ago, had been senseless mating. What they did last night was incredibly dangerous. Opalbane had driven him to the brink with her shadow powers, and he reacted to her with the savage feral thirst that always lay brooding deep inside of him. Both of them had exposed the worst sides of themselves… but at some point, the angry shadowpriestess and the vengeful feral druid had danced together and found joy in each other's pain. And this morning—Alessandre realized that perhaps he had truly been dying considering the way that he and Opalbane had gone about it—his lover used her powers of the Light to heal him completely. There was something incredibly endearing about that. He'd satisfied her using his ferocity, and Opalbane returned the favor a few hours later, using her gentleness.

Alessandre smiled down at his Moonlily. He silently prayed to Elune that they could be like this always. Now that he understood what it was like, Alessandre did not want to give up his place beside her to any man. It made him jealous just thinking about leaving Opalbane. Why in the world had he convinced himself to do it before? How had he restrained himself from loving her, with his body as well as his heart? Alessandre stroked Opalbane's back and idly wondered if Elune would answer his prayer.

"No… Elune has already done as much as she can for me." Alessandre smiled as the beautiful truth occurred to him at last. "I have the power to see to our happiness myself."

_Hello, this is my wife Opalbane. Please, let me introduce you to Opalbane, my wife. My wife Opalbane likes Heaven Peaches too…_ Alessandre liked the thought of Opalbane being his and loved thinking about them that way, loved hearing how it would sound to introduce her to other people, to talk about her. They had an entire year ahead of them after this Wreathe Day to think about marriage, but why wait?

Alessandre had already been waiting too long for this kind of miracle to occur in his life. He was not going to wait any longer.

Opalbane woke up then. She observed her new lover staring off into space for some time. Alessandre had a pleasant, detached smile on his face.

"Al, what's so funny?" she almost giggled herself, trying to imagine what could make the stoic rogue look so whimsical.

Alessandre looked at her sideways while he grinned, as if her were ready to tell her an amazing secret.

"What is your brother's address, in Ashenvale?"

"Why?" Opalbane started to worry.

"Oh, no reason. I think it's about time that I wrote him a letter, that's all."

She kissed him on the cheek, but could not seize Alessandre's attention back.

"Also, in your opinion, is Priestess Feathershine terribly busy these days? I'd like to talk to her as well."

"Al, what is going on?"

Alessandre smiled wider. "Nothing. I'm just a traditional guy when it comes to these things." And he kissed her hand.

"What things?" she insisted, getting worried. Alessandre did not answer Opalbane. He drew her into a warm hug and began to talk about what a beautiful morning it was. He meant every word.


	23. Al gets caught, Wisthera is next

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Twenty-Three: Al gets caught. Wisthera is next.**

A day later, Onyxbane found an auspicious letter in his mailbox.

"Hey, Sara, look at this." He motioned for his girlfriend Wisthera to come over and look. It took her longer than usual to get up from the table where she practiced her leatherworking.

The envelope had been folded from heavy royal blue paper. As the recipient, Onyxbane's name had been written in the center of the envelope. But his name had been stylized in large blazing calligraphy. Every stroke was succinct, but when the dragging curls and loops of the letters did touch, the intertwining strokes looked purposeful, not sloppy. The entire thing was a work of art. Onyxbane's name and address had been done in brilliant gold ink, which neither he nor Wisthera had seen before.

"What the Legion… am I being summoned by the Prince of the Highborne or something?"

"Blood Elves," Wisthera corrected her boyfriend and raised an ivy green eyebrow at him. Her blue skin flushed with the scowl she made. "And though Silvermoon City _is_ rumored to be beautiful, it belongs to the Horde now. You'll do well to remember that, love." Wisthera lay her head on Onyxbane's shoulder. "Who's it from? That script is so elaborate, I can't make it out—"

Wisthera's eyes went wide when she saw who'd sent it. She'd heard that Alessandre was a master forger, ontop of everything else… it had not occurred to her until recently that one could use the darker arts of the rogue profession for something good.

Onyxbane, always a bit of a meathead, rushed to open the letter and almost destroyed the beautiful envelope in the process. Annoyed, Wisthera slapped him on the shoulder. They both began to read the elegant print:

_To the Honorable Onyxbane, heralded Warrior of the Alliance,_

"You're honorable?" Wisthera teased.

"I'm heralded?" Onyxbane's thick white eyebrows rose at this.

_You know of me though we have never been properly introduced. Two months and five days ago, I was sent to Stormwind to watch over your sister Priestess Opalbane while she recovered from being a cultist. Priestess Feathershine of the Temple of Elune and Master Rogue Shadowstep of the Cenarion Enclave wisely foresaw that your sister had enemies in abundance within the Human city. It was my duty, and greatest honor to have been assigned the task of protecting your sister from these villains. I am proud to say that as of last night, your sister has finally been freed from the clutches of the Twilight Hammer Cult. _

_I shall leave the details of the rescue at your sister's discretion._

"What the heck does that mean?" Onyxbane floundered. Wisthera ducked behind his shoulder to hide her wily smile.

_I wish to inform you that while during my term as your sister's bodyguard (currently, my contract has not yet ended, though I shall be relieved of duty at the end of this month) I developed such powerful feelings in my heart that at first I doubted their existence. That is because the love I have for your sister is at once so profound and liberating that I thought it was a curse of fate upon me; but it is no curse dear sir—it is nothing short of a blessing from Elune._

"Huh? Why would loving my sister be a curse?" Onyxbane objected.

"Onyx, it's your sister _Opalbane_ that we're talking about here. Besides, stop moving the paper every time you get confused. You're forcing me to read at your pace." She nagged.

"Are you trying to call me stupid or something?" Onyxbane the warrior objected.

Wisthera shushed him and they continued reading together.

_I realize that it is customary for a couple to wait a year after being Wreathed before marriage is proposed. You can see from this letter that I am very much the traditionalist. However, my heart compels me to beseech you, here and now, for your sister's hand in marriage. I am well aware of your family history because of my mission. Thusly, it is appropriate for me to ask you as her last surviving male relative to grant me this honor. Though Priestess Feathershine is not related to either of you by blood I intend to ask her promptly as well, then marry Priestess Opalbane as soon as possible._

_Ideally, I would have us married before the end of this week if it is agreeable. _

_I assure you that, even before becoming your sister's bodyguard, I have been a man of some means, and have a very respectable family background though none of my relatives still live. I hope that you will agree that I am a good match for your darling sister. I invite you to come to Darnassus and meet me in person if that will satisfy you. However, I urge you to do so soon because I will not suffer Opalbane to wait any longer for the love she deserves. I am certain that I can give her everything that she needs from a proper husband. I admit now that this letter is mostly a formality; my duty as a man insists that I deliver to Opalbane what love and attention is worthy of her regardless of other opinions. I shall forge for her a secure home and stable companionship befitting a woman of her station at my earliest convenience, with or without your blessing. Being a gentleman, however, your blessing will be greatly appreciated._

_May Elune bless you and yours,_

_Alessandre, of the Kaldorei Rogue Network in Darnassus._

Onyxbane's eyes bulged. He sputtered for a solid minute before he could form a coherent sentence.

"Take a deep breath, now Onyx." Wisthera cautioned.

"He!" he inhaled sharply, "That! A rogue! My big sister is going to marry a rogue!"

"Onyx, dear, I don't think Alessandre has asked her yet. And do I need to remind you that _you_ are dating rogue?" Wisthera admonished but couldn't help smiling at the news.

"But he _is_ going to ask my Sissy, isn't he? With or without my permission? And he said 'thusly.' Who says thusly? Wisthera, you're a rogue… tell me about him? Is he safe? You said that he was safe!"

Wisthera bit her lower lip. "Yes, love, I did. I told you that he would make a great bodyguard for your sister when Feathershine asked. Don't you remember?"

"But… you never said that he would—"

Wisthera placed both hands on Onyxbane's heaving shoulders. He was breathing so rapidly he looked like he might hyperventilate. "Deep breath in… Now, I know Alessandre from a few months ago, as I explained before… and out. Good. Now take another deep breath in… And he's a little fast with the ladies—"

"Fast? My sister can't be with someone like that!"

"Breathe in!" Wisthera shouted at him. The happy squirrels and birds chirping all around them in Ashenvale fell silent at her outburst. Onyxbane nodded his head furiously and leaned on his knees. He inhaled deeply. "But I guess he really cares for her." Wisthera continued, "I can't believe that _the_ Alessandre is actually going to get married! This is exciting… Now, breathe out."

Wisthera guided Onyxbane's breathing over and over until finally he calmed down. "You know, you are getting pretty good at the breathing thing." He told her.

"Yeah, just in time." Wisthera mused. Onyxbane helped her back inside the house. Once they were settled, Wisthera watched Onyxbane carefully, to make sure that he wasn't going to fly into hysterics again. Then she carefully said, "You know, we have to go see Feathershine now. There's no avoiding it."

"But I can't! When Feathershine finds out what we did… Oh, she's going to kill me!" Onyxbane pulled on the long white twin braids that fell over either side of his shoulders. Wishtera liked the way her boyfriend wore his hair. With the short clipped ponytail at the crown of his head in addition to the long barbarian braids, Onyxbane looked like a man always ready for a battle. It was a very good look for a warrior.

"For all your training and that expensive blue plate, and that stupid, stupid Reaper, the very least you can do is tell your mother--"

"Hey! Don't talk about the Reaper that way."

Wisthera narrowed her eyes at Onyxbane angrily. "You know very well this is more important than any of those things! Now, are you going to go and face your foster mother about this, or do I have to go all the way down there by myself?"

Onyxbane sighed. There was nothing more intimidating than a woman like Wisthera who always held all the cards. To make things worse, her many years as a con artist had paid off because she knew exactly how to use them. Especially her latest card… Onyxbane couldn't help but dote on his girlfriend for a brief moment.

"Fine. Get your coat Sara; we're going to Darnassus!" And Onyxbane rushed off to get their mounts ready.

_The next day at the Temple of Elune in Darnassus…_

Alessandre waited as long as he dared to hear word back from Onyxbane. There were only two days left in the week before Shadowstep shipped him off into the gaping maw of what felt like the Burning Legion itself to him: Stormwind. Shadowstep had made it painfully clear that he didn't care if Alessandre's Wreathe Day worked. He didn't care that the Twilight Cultists had withdrawn their secret spies from Darnassus, and their hungry agents from Darkshore. There were still important cultists to be taken care of back in Stormwind. Alessandre had not forgotten about Faltheriel's thugs. As long as Opalbane was living she would be a target for the Blood Elf and his Burning Legion, for whatever reason that was. Alessandre fully understood that the little Faltheriel problem was one that could only be resolved by cold-blooded murder. And there was no way in Outland that Alessandre was going to allow the victim to be his future wife. Not that he'd asked Opalbane yet… but he was hopeful that she would say yes.

Faltheriel's thugs and all their no good friends began leaving Darkshore in droves when the Twilight Cultists pulled out. Clearly, the cultists were the brooding, clever types and when all that brainpower departed, the meathead cutthroats were easily chased down by the Sentinels who got impatient waiting around for Shadowstep's rogues to do the job. As always, the Sentinels had excellent instincts when it came to protecting the homeland. That show of brute force sent the thugs running like nothing else. The Sentinels were merciless and even prevented them from using the Hippogryphs or getting onto the docks to sail back to the Eastern Kingdoms by boat. Many of them had run for their lives into the depths of Ashenvale where more eager Sentinels waiting in Astranaar, deranged Furblogs, or worse—the Horde—caught up with the pathetic ne'erdowells and cleaned them out of their respective territories. But the head of that snake was a Blood Elf moonlighting as a Highborne in Stormwind. Even though Alessandre longed to just marry the woman he loved and run away with her, he knew there would be no peace until Faltheriel was six feet under the earth. Besides, Alessandre was starting to look forward to getting rid of that disgusting elf.

Alessandre paused at the top of the long incline before the temple entrance. All the arrangements for the engagement had been made. Telling Priestess Feathershine was the only matter left before he asked Opalbane to be his wife. Seemingly unconcerned Sentinels stared straight ahead on either side of him. Until Opalbane, the Temple of Elune was a place that Alessandre always avoided. For him, it was the equivalent of a cutthroat avoiding Stormwind Keep. Blinding, shiny white justice lived within this holy place. The enormous statue of Elune holding a brilliant moonlit libation bowl over her head was a painful reminder of this. Alessandre thought about how he had come here to see Opalbane recover at the beginning of this week. He couldn't put his finger on it exactly, but he'd felt more welcome at that time. Now, however—and he dared to steal a look at the Sentinels on either side of him—he had a sinking feeling. Alessandre liked to trust his instinct. It kept him alive. And, he couldn't help recalling with a self-satisfied smirk, it had helped him to finally please Opalbane two nights earlier. It was good old instinct that had told Alessandre to succumb to his wildest nature, giving the angry shadowpriestess the raging lover she needed that night.

That was the giddy thought that possessed Alessandre when he crossed the threshold into the Temple of Elune. It was why he did not sense danger when Priestess Feathershine was not in her office. It was the reason why he did not feel fear when a kindly novice escorted him to a small confession room on the top floor of the temple, towards the back. It was the distracting passion he had for the shadowpriestess that caused Alessandre to stroll into Shadowstep's trap in a complete daze.

When Alessandre entered the tiny room, Priestess Feathershine stood from where she was seated behind a small marble table.

"Druid Mirothalas Shademoon." Feathershine announced in a clear authoritative voice, "Welcome to your trial. Please sit."

Alessandre crouched low, like a cat that was cornered and then went for the door. It slammed shut behind him. He went for the knob, but it turned by itself and locked. Master Rogue Shadowstep materialized out of thin air, his hand on the lock.

"I suggest you do as she says, Mirothalas." He sneered at Alessandre.

What else could he do? Alessandre sat on the stone bench opposite Priestess Feathershine. He looked for the kind understanding she showed when Alessandre brought her daughter safe and sound to Darnassus. All the gentleness had gone from the majestic woman's face. Only the righteous fury of the goddess remained.

Alessandre clenched his jaw tight, then joked bitterly, "What took you all so long? It's been one thousand years… even all my family is dead and gone, but justice doesn't age, does she?"

Priestess Feathershine did not soften at his joke. "No, she does not."

"Before you begin lying to us, Mirothalas," Master Rogue Shadowstep was careful to call Alessandre by his proper name. "You should know that I was busy doing as much research into your past as possible over the last two days. Maybe you've found a way to keep priests from looking into your mind before, but I know enough to tell whether or not you're lying."

Alessandre cursed under his breath. "I was so careful… how in Azeroth did you find me out?"

"A little birdie told me." Shadowstep answered vaguely. There was hardly enough space in the confession room for a person to stand comfortably, and there certainly wasn't enough for two people to stand shoulder to shoulder. But Shadowstep and Priestess Feathershine showed no signs of discomfort whatsoever. Perhaps it was part of the torture, Alessandre realized.

"Getting you to come here, though, was the tricky part. Trying to apprehend a murderer who part assassin part serial killer would be a task even Sentinels. But I intercepted the letter you sent to Onyxbane before it went to Ashenvale, and I knew that you'd have to come here next to ask Feathershine's permission. It was just a matter of time after that--"

"How dare you take my daughter's innocence, you filth!" Priestess Feathershine flared at Alessandre suddenly and cut Shadowstep off. "She will never recover from what you've done! How can you do this to her, after everything she's already been through in her life?"

Alessandre took a deep breath and waited for the angry Priestess of Elune and his irate guild leader to calm down. Worse yet, both were currently his employers.

"You can't pass judgment on me until you've heard the entire story, right?" he reasoned with them. Neither Night Elf gave any overt gesture of confirmation. It seemed that for both of them, even being polite was too much.

Alessandre sighed. "Let me tell you what I've been doing these last thousand years. I'll tell you everything." Then he finished grimly, "After I've told my story, you can decide whether or not death or your daughter will have me."

Priestess Feathershine's bottom lip quivered with emotion, and her eyes were wet. Alessandre was tempted to lean over the table and comfort her when suddenly the Priestess of Elune straightened and shouted at him, "Swear it! Swear it by the name of the goddess!"

"I swear," Alessandre recited, as he knew was custom, "by the divine power of Elune, that what I say is truth."

"We accept your oath." Shadowstep put in hurriedly from where he was leaning against the wall behind Alessandre. Under Priestess Feathershine's intense gaze, Alessandre forgot the Master Rogue was even in the room.

"By _my_ judgment, you will either meet with Her divine wrath or mercy." Priestess Feathershine gave Alessandre the final warning. Those were but the traditional words, but she spoke them with such menace, Alessandre was starting to believe the rumors that Feathershine and Shadowstep were long-time lovers. There was so much of the Master Rogue's ferocity in this woman who was now Alessandre's jailor, judge, and jury.


	24. A secret confession! And cake!

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Twenty-Four: A secret confession! And cake!**

Alessandre pulled out his slender pipe and began to light it.

"Don't dare smoke in the Temple of Elune." Priestess Feathershine narrowed her eyes at him.

The tiny confession room was pristine. The walls were made from unblemished white stone and the floor was slick polished marble.

"This may be the last time that I get to say anything meaningful to anyone." Alessandre slyly objected. "Besides, the smoke helps me—"

"Put it out, Mirothalas." Shadowstep growled at Alessandre.

Alessandre was hating Shadowstep more and more by the minute. Grudgingly, Alessandre emptied the newly lit contents onto the perfect floor and ground them into smoldering ashes with the heel of his boot. Then, he put the pipe back into his pocket.

"You'll clean that up later." Feathershine informed him. "Now, start talking."

Alessandre folded his arms and leaned forward on the small marble table between he and the Priestess of Elune.

"One thousand and nineteen years ago, I was born into the Shademoon family. Our name is an old one, though many people might not recognize it. More people would remember a name like Stormrage, right? Well, that's because Malfurion Stormrage was the first Night Elf druid. Orion Shademoon, my ancestor, was one of the first druids that Malfurion trained after the Sundering. He was one of many, but that kind of thing was still an honor, to have been privy to such raw druidic powers at the beginning of time." Alessandre paused when he felt Feathershine's powers enter his mind. Unlike Opalbane, Feathershine's Mind Vision spell was bold and domineering. It insisted that he only focused on the memories it wondered about, but Alessandre resisted that intense kind of mind searching which felt as suggestive as mind control.

"Priestess, I'm going to tell this the way it needs to be told. Besides, you're going to get lost or upset if you start leaning on the wrong memories too heavily."

Feathershine pursed her lips. "Nor will you bombard me with family memories that are not your own. I know why you are going back so far, Alessandre. Don't play those games with me."

Alessandre grimaced. "Fine. I'll skip ahead to where this whole thing started. Because of my ancestor Orion, the men in my family made exceptional druids, especially feral ones. No one in my family was really surprised when I was asked to join the Cenarion Circle at nineteen. I was always a bit of a prodigy and nearly all the men in my family were already members of the Cenarion Circle. But, for some strange reason, the druids stationed in Silithus at the time were very surprised to see me breaking all kinds of rules with my powers, going against direct orders, and raising a commotion with the few female druids there." Alessandre finished sarcastically.

"I bet you were an irritating bastard." Shadowstep half-smiled.

"A full feral druid, at only nineteen years old?" Alessandre allowed himself to laugh. "You bet I was. But the real problem wasn't all the rules I arrogantly broke. I was so good at everything, the rules no longer applied to me. My feral instincts were always on track. If I stayed out scouting the insect-like Silithid creatures for days longer than I was supposed to, I'd come back with such a lead no one could chastise me. Or, if I had guard duty and went on patrol miles out of my way on an impulse, I'd end up coming back with information about a Silithid surprise attack. I was as close to a perfect feral druid as anyone could get at Cenarion Hold. To top that off, I let everyone know just how irritated I was with the Archdruid's less than stellar leadership. He made huge oversights in his judgments. Oftentimes it seemed he was oblivious to what was going on around him. A lot of the older druids stationed at Cenarion Hold in that bereft wasteland they still call Silithus really liked me for it, though they wouldn't come out and say it to anyone in charge."

"You challenged even the Archdruid at that time?" Shadowstep couldn't believe it.

Feathershine's eyes were vacant. She seemed to be listening, but in a different way with her powers.

Alessandre nodded. "I was an idiot, and a smartass. Of course, the Archdruid made it his personal mission to teach me some humility. I knew what he was up to, but I couldn't avoid it. That bastard sent me on pointless mission after pointless mission into those damnable sands, all to 'build character' he said. I finally got sick of it."

"What about the girl, Arianna?" Feathershine's voice turned surprisingly gentle and her eyes focused on Alessandre.

Alessandre cleared his throat uncomfortably. "That really has nothing to do with Stormwind—"

"Oh no, dear, it has everything to do with Stormwind. I can tell already. Now, tell us about her."

Alessandre rested his head in his hands. "I loved her. She was a Priestess of Elune, one of a few that High Priestess Tyrande sent down to Silithus to watch us druids. At that time, the Cenarion Circle was not as independent as it is now… so much has happened over the last thousand years that enabled the druids to consolidate power. Anyway, at that time Tyrande had kind of a leash on us, and she was wary of our being so far away from everyone out in Silithus. She wanted to know what was going on with the Silithid creatures we encountered first hand. I was ordered to take Arianna along with me on one of the Archdruid's assignments." Alessandre hesitated. "At first, I didn't like her. She was arrogant and always good at everything..." he trailed off.

"You two were a perfect match." Shadowstep concluded.

Alessandre nodded. "Yes sir." He swallowed. "You know, Opalbane reminds me of her, which is a bit spooky. She's the kind of woman that is too good to be true. I kept looking for a flaw in Arrianna, but I never did find one."

"That is because you weren't with her long enough. Young love is like that." Feathershine frowned.

Alessandre flushed with anger and was about to say something in his defense when he realized Priestess Feathershine had been talking to Shadowstep. The Master Rogue grunted and looked away from his rumored girlfriend.

Some things about love never changed, Alessandre smiled to himself. "I feel you prodding at this Feathershine, so I'll just come out and say it for you. Yes, Arianna was the first woman I ever slept with. She was older than me by some years, but it didn't matter. I've always had that kind of luck with women, even before I became a rogue. The two of us were all alone in the desert for days… the inevitable happened. But it turned out to be more than that. I grew to love her so much… we had many good times together. Even after a few years went by and the War of the Shifting Sands started, I still cared deeply for her. I had a wreathe shipped to Cenarion Hold from Darnassus… everyone knew what we were about. And, despite all of the Archdruid's efforts to teach me to respect my superiors, I'd only become more confident with a Priestess of Elune backing me. With my family members also firmly placed within the Cenarion Circle, I think the Archdruid started to feel threatened by what I was saying. I started to imagine that I'd be an Archdruid one day; I certainly had the bloodlines for it. Maybe I mentioned that little fantasy to one too many people. Maybe that is why the Archdruid sabotaged my wife."

Both Priestess Feathershine and Shadowstep looked at Alessandre, startled.

Priestess Feathershine raised her eyebrows. "Alessandre, you are not married. You never married Arrianna, I can tell. Why would you say that?"

Alessandre got a wild look in his eye. "I wanted to marry her. In my head, it was already done. Even after everything… I always called her that in my head. I had to wait a year because of our Wreathe Day, but I was ready to do it. And Arrianna came from a powerful family too. If we'd been able to join as husband and wife, then no one would be able to oppose my career."

"So this was a political, as well as an emotional betrayal." Shadowstep put in.

Alessandre turned to face his guild leader. "Political? It was _personal_. The Archdruid knew about the Twilight Cultists. He knew how powerful they were. He was keeping it a secret from everyone; that was why his methods appeared so questionable. In truth, he knew exactly what he was doing… and he knew that Arianna had been talking to them." Alessandre had to stop there.

Priestess Feathershine indulged him and cocked her head to the side, an empathetic look on her face. "You knew she was becoming a cultist, didn't you?"

"I thought it was just a phase… We'd seen a camp of cultists from far away while on that mission together. Arianna couldn't stop talking about how amazing their blazing blue bonfires looked. She kept begging me to let her go and touch one of their orange crystals. It was strange that she was obsessed with them, when we'd only just encountered the cult in passing. I loved her so much. I just didn't think she was capable of really doing something like that." He answered quietly.

Feathershine inhaled slowly, hesitant with her own information. "More than likely, Arianna had been thinking about the cult before she even met them." Then she waggled a finger at him. "Mind you, I am only telling you this about Opalbane because I think you deserve some peace after everything you endured back then. Arianna's situation sounds much like Opalbane's… many years ago, when my little girl came back from that idiotic Convention of the Cloth Classes in Stormwind, Opalbane began to act strange. She was already a very angry novice priestess, but whatever the Archmage told her and the other young casters who attended that meeting pushed Opal over the edge. I didn't hear any of his speeches myself, but it was clearly some kind of propaganda about how people who _look_ and _act _strangely are in fact evil. Opalbane was convinced that she was tainted somehow, and that she was destined to fail at becoming a priestess of the Light. Sometimes I would hear her talking to herself, to a person named Zar'teaus… it truly doesn't surprise me that when she grew into a woman, she ran away to Silithus to join this Zar'teaus. He turned out to be an old god that needed her as a High Priestess… but to haunt her for years, nearly her entire life? I don't know how my daughter got exposed to that filth back in Stormwind, but it certainly ruined her."

Alessandre didn't have to wonder too long about who might have planted a desire to meet Zar'teaus in Opalbane's heart. Priestess Feathershine saw that he was thinking of Priest Benactus and shuddered. _We will discuss him later, Alessandre. But for now, we must continue with the trial. Please, go on._ She told him mentally.

Alessandre nodded at her and continued. "Eventually the Archdruid sent us to one of those camps alone. We were supposed to just get information, he said. But when we went, they saw us in the distance. I could stealth in my Nightsaber form, so I got away. Arianna didn't. It took…" he exhaled angrily, "weeks for the Archdruid to get the proper approval to go to war with the cultists. We were there for the Silithid, and the Twilight Cultists were so new at that time, well at least to us. We didn't want to have anything to do with them. Nor did they appear to be affiliated with the Silithid forces in any measure, so to avoid conflict we were supposed to leave them alone." Alessandre balled his fists in anger. "The Archdruid put me in an infantry position to keep me from raising an alarm about Arriana's disappearance. My friends at Cenarion Hold kept telling me that he was doing all he could, but in my opinion, it wasn't enough. I also suspected that the Archdruid knew how Arianna was tempted and sent her there on purpose, to get rid of her. I finally decided to go and get her myself."

Alessandre sat up straight again. "I defected."

Shadowstep blinked, but said nothing.

"I stole Starshatter, the war mount assigned to me, and left the morning before one of our last battles. It had been a difficult war. Cenarion Hold barely maintained an advantage over Ahn Quiraj. Every Night Elf who could, druid or no, was expected to do everything they could to help the effort. My heart wasn't in it though, not after what the Archdruid did to me and Arianna. It actually wasn't very hard for me to make the decision. I had every intention of running away with Arrianna after I got her out of there. I didn't care about my career or my family. I was the youngest of five sons, so they often forgot about me anyway. But that's beside the point. I switched to my catform, and sneaked in there. Feral druids have a talent for tracking people, so finding Arianna was easy. But when I tried to get her to leave with me, things went bad."

Feathershine covered her face with her hands. "She pretended to go with you at first, but it was just a game. When you were almost out, and things seemed perfect, she turned against you. Oh, Alessandre… I'm so sorry."

"It's no excuse for the things I've done to make up for it. All the different names I took, the men that I've killed… for the first five hundred years afterward, I was a madman, closer to a monster than an actual person."

"You were insane." Feathershine clarified.

"I knew what I was doing!" Alessandre insisted, "I wanted to kill people, and I was strong enough to do it, so I hunted men. And big cities were the greatest temptation. Stormwind turned out to be my favorite."

"Hold on just a minute. You two have all the inside information here, and you just skipped the most important part. What did Arianna do to you in Silithus, and how did you become a rogue?" Shadowstep came and stood close behind Alessandre.

Alessandre dragged his fingers back through his long hair. "She tried to… she called all her new cultist friends around and told them to watch. Then she… used some terrible fel power against me. It hit me… If she'd just wanted to kill me… villains do that kind of thing all the time, I would understand. But she tried to destroy my life… she attempted to castrate me."

Shadowstep didn't know what to say. Priestess Feathershine blinked back tears. "What a terrible thing for someone you love to do that to you, Alessandre. That is the worst kind of abuse." She said.

Alessandre's face was emotionless. "It would have been better if she just killed me. How was I supposed to recover from something like that? I loved her so much. I would have done anything for her. In fact, I'd done everything for her. I threw away my career with the druids and turned against my family, all to save her life. And when I asked her to decide between the cultists and me… she chose to torture me. She left me bleeding in the sands." Alessandre's eyes were wet, but he would not allow himself to cry. "I wanted to live… I had to return to Cenarion Hold somehow. I was completely at the Archdruid's mercy."

"The Cenarion Circle is an exclusive group." Alessandre calmed himself and continued on. "Only the best druids get in. No one ever gets out, for very good reasons. There are some secrets I learned, some powerful druidic techniques, that I would not dare share with anyone else. Even now, I have respect for that dangerous knowledge. But, just because I understand why the Archdruid stripped me of my rank doesn't mean that I agree with it. Even though it may have been necessary, I hate that man for what he did to me. I've checked, and thankfully this is a practice they ended some years ago. I am not going to tell you what I was planning to do to certain members of the Cenarion Circle if that weren't the case. But anyways, back to the story. At that time, an unworthy druid could be excommunicated from the Cenarion Circle and stripped of his rank. When I got back to base, the Archdruid wanted to let me die because he knew what my fate was. Maybe he should have." Alessandre smiled grimly. He looked like a madman. "But my friends wanted to heal me. However, as soon as I was recovered, the Archdruid began the slow and torturous process of taking away my druidic powers."

"I take it he attempted to destroy your mana somehow?" Feathershine wondered.

"Something like that. Whatever he did to me, it felt like I was being skinned alive, and it took hours, longer than a day to complete. The awful pain alone is enough to make someone mad. I'd heard horror stories of excommunicated druids who later lost their minds after surviving the process. The lucky ones had enough sense to commit suicide and end their long immortal lives right off. It is the most painful thing you can ever imagine, to be stripped of something you've committed your entire heart, body, mind, and soul to. If some tragedy happens, you rely on your beliefs to comfort you, right? Well, my tragedy was being betrayed by the love of my life and being stripped of my rank by the druids who had been the center of my world, the core of my family's beliefs for generations. Could I go to Moonglade and speak with my mentors, or my relatives and find comfort? No. Could I meditate and commune with the animal spirits within myself and find strength? No. Even if I wanted to, that world was closed to me. The Archdruid used his powers to break the deep bonds I'd made with the Great Bear Spirit, and countless other benign natural entities. The process was supposed to tear my mana from me, but for some strange reason it didn't work properly. Months later, after I left Silithus and my family turned their backs on me because of the shame, I found out by accident that I was still a druid. And… though you are a lady Feathershine, I feel you're curious about the other thing too. To answer your unspoken question, No, Arianna did not succeed at unmaking me a man. Somehow… what she did and what the Archdruid did enhanced my abilities in that department. But, I didn't dare tell anyone the truth, for fear they would come after me and finish the process, or worse."

"Perhaps the fel energy you'd been exposed to at the cultist camp had something to do with it?" Priestess Feathershine offered, though she blushed.

Shadowstep flashed a jealous look at Feathershine, which she ignored. Then, he scratched his beard and began to pace.

"This _is _a trial afterall, so please forgive me for pressing forward in the light of such tragedy." He said hurriedly, "But, how did you become a rogue after? This still makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense, Shadowstep." Alessandre addressed the impatient man without turning his head to look at him. "You see—"

A panicked banging at the door cut off Alessandre's words. Darnassian trials were sacred and not meant to be interrupted for any reason. However, the insistent visitors were so annoying that Shadowstep finally groaned and snatched the door open.

"Why are you bothering us? Where are the Sentinels who are supposed to be watching this door?" he demanded of the intruders.

Onyxbane looked up at the intimidating Shadowstep. His hand was balled into a fist and it was frozen mid-knock in the air. Wisthera wasn't standing too far behind him.

"We told them there was cake downstairs." She shrugged then sported her classic wily smile. Everyone knows that cake is a Sentinel's one weakness. That is probably why you can't buy it anywhere in Azeroth.

Shadowstep's eyes went wide when he saw Wisthera. Behind him, Priestess Feathershine began asking who it was, but Shadowstep quickly pulled the door shut behind him. Then, he leaned against the door to keep it closed.

"You two…" he eyed Wisthera carefully, then gaped at Onyxbane. "Your foster mother is going to kill you for this, you know that right?"

Onyxbane sighed. "I know, I know. We messed up everything. But do us a favor, alright? We need to get in there and stop Alessandre from marrying my sister, right now."

"We're not here to stop the wedding, Onyx! We're here to tell her about _the other thing_." She whispered harshly.

Onyxbane groaned and tugged on his long twin braids desperately. It made him look like a child, and perhaps it was an old habit from when he was a boy and didn't get his way. Clearly, he and Wisthera had been arguing about his sister's impending engagement to the rogue and _the other thing_ for some time.

Master Rogue Shadowstep couldn't keep his eyes off Wisthera. It took a burning glare from Onyxbane to get him back on track.

"There's definitely not going to be any wedding, so don't worry about that."

"Why not?" Wisthera challenged.

Shadowstep sighed, and composed himself. "Because we are in the middle of trying Alessandre for murder. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this."

"A murderer! You set my sister up with a murderer!" Onyxbane threw his hands up in the air and turned on Wisthera.

"What in the Legion are you talking about?" Shadowstep asked Onyxbane. Wisthera instantly shushed her boyfriend.

"Shadowstep," she addressed him sweetly, and batted her eyelashes to distract him. "You can't be serious. Alessandre may be a top rate assassin, a master forger, and an expert lover… but he is _not_ a murderer. If this is about the Maker's Terrace thing… _I _was the one who leaked those secrets from his mission, and any fallout from that is really my fault. Alessandre wasn't the one who told all of Azeroth that Dwarves are descended from Troggs. I was just a little mad at him at the time. Besides, I would _know_ if Al were a murderer."

Shadowstep shook his head at Wisthera, disappointed. "While I thank you for that unsolicited confession, it's not going to help Alessandre." Then, Shadowstep looked at her critically. "And might I add, that for all the wreckless seducing of my agents you've done over the years, one would think you'd know _a lot _of things. How could you even let him get you like that?"

Onyxbane stepped imbetween them. "Hey, don't you talk to my girlfriend that way. Maybe it's unexpected, but I love her and it isn't the end of the world. But please, don't tell Feathershine yet? I don't want her to find out this way." He pleaded.

"It's no reason to be mean." Wisthera pouted at Shadowstep and wrapped her arms possessively around Onyxbane's shoulders.

Master Rogue Shadowstep sighed heavily. His long green ponytail twitched as he shook his head at both of them. "Alright. When I go back in there, I won't tell Priestess Feathershine that you tried to break up Alessandre and your sister."

Onyxbane grabbed Shadowstep's arm. "No! Not that… the _other_ thing."

Shadowstep scowled. "You know, this is why I don't like you young people. There's always some kind of drama isn't there? Well, I guess I should be glad that you didn't ask me to break the news to her myself. Like I would want to be the messenger of that kind of announcement."

Then, he went back inside.

"Ugh, well that was one face I was never hoping to see again." Wisthera stretched and walked back to the ramp leading to the lower floors of the temple. "Onyx dear, please don't take any of that flirting personally, by the way. I only did it to distract Shadowstep from what I did to your sister. Think we should go and break the news to her?"

Onyxbane would not answer Wisthera. He looked overwhelmed. They descended the last few levels of the Temple in silence. Some Sentinels stuffing cake into their mouths near the moonwell on the bottom floor waved to them cheerfully and thanked them for the delicious snack.

Wisthera smiled and waved to them in turn. "I'm sure glad you got me that cake when I had a craving back in Auberdine. It came in handy."

"Woman, how can you act so calm when you SET MY SISTER UP WITH A MURDERER!" Onyxbane shouted at her.

The Sentinels looked up from the box of cake they were eating, surprised by Onyxbane's outburst. Wisthera carefully sat down on the edge of the moonwell and stared up at her agitated boyfriend.

"Geesh." Wisthera shrugged. "Some people say assassin, others say murderer. Tomato, tomatto."

"Gaaaaah!" Onyxbane sank to his knees at Wisthera's feet. A flock of compassionate Sentinels rushed in and started to comfort him.

"He'll be fine." Wisthera waved her hand dismissively in the air. "It's just that his mother is a Priestess of Elune, and we aren't married yet."

All around, the women nodded their heads under shining silver visors. These holy women lived by very strict rules when it came to that sort of thing, and they more than understood.

"My sister and Feathershine… both of them… both of them are going to kill me…" Onyxbane hugged his knees to his chest in a fetal position and kept mumbling over and over.


	25. Onyx doesn't play that, but his mom does

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Twenty-Five: Onyx doesn't play that, but his mom does**

"Who was that at the door?" Priestess Feathershine eyed Shadowstep warily.

"Your son, the warrior." Shadowstep shrugged and leaned against the wall of the tiny room again.

Priestess Feathershine obviously felt there was something more to Shadowstep's answer, but the Master Rogue kept his mouth shut, and his mind on matters at hand.

"How did you become a rogue, Alessandre? The Kaldorei Rogue Network became aware of you about twenty years ago, when you caught my eye. However, you're not on any of the rogue rosters in Darnassus, and SI: 7 made it very clear to me that you chose not to be affiliated with them when I hired you to protect Opalbane in Stormwind."

Alessandre seemed to relax. He smiled and said, "Back in Silithus, I already knew how to use a dagger. I was already going around poking my head into business that wasn't my own. I was already a sneaky person, and I was willing to betray Cenarius and my country for a woman I wanted."

Shadowstep was about to object, but he leaned against the wall again, thinking better of it. "Well, some rogues can be very patriotic, like myself. Though, I do admit that you have a point there." He joked.

Alessandre continued, "Maybe if I was from a different family, with a little less power or wealth, I might have come up as a rogue. But druid was all I was ever taught. It was what I respected. However, after leaving Cenarion Hold and Silithus behind I couldn't let anyone know that I was a druid. To survive on my own, I had to come up with something else."

"So who trained you to become a rogue?" Shadowstep insisted. Priestess Feathershine's gaze had turned back to normal, and she leaned casually on the table. For some reason, she wasn't reading Alessandre's mind anymore, which worried Shadowstep.

Alessandre smiled. "Would you believe me if I told you that I figured it all out by myself?"

"No."

"Ah, I thought you wouldn't." Alessandre grinned wider. "Then you aren't the Master Rogue for nothing. Like I just told Priestess Feathershine, the first half millennia after my excommunication was like my own personal hell. I had no family, no friends, and the only woman I loved had been the cause of it. I was so messed up back then… I even went back to Silithus to try and free Arianna a second time, only hundreds of years had already gone by and I didn't understand that too much time had passed. It was like I was still stuck in that year I lost everything. Besides, many cultists like to think they are immortal. Many of them join up worshipping Old Gods for that lone fact. But the work the cult makes them do burns out their amazing powers too fast. It's all very ironic, really. That is why cults are always desperate for new recruits. That is why when I went back, Arianna was really gone."

"But you aren't on trial for what you did to the camp Arianna was in." Feathershine looked bored. "Or anything that came before Stormwind."

Alessandre stopped talking then, and flashed a look at Shadowstep over his shoulder.

The man sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine, because you clearly have a soft spot for him Feathershine, I'll keep that part off the record."

Alessandre looked grateful for a moment, then went on with his story. "Well, that was the first five hundred years or so. I couldn't really recall those memories if I wanted to. So much of it is a horrible illogical blur. But, about two hundred years ago, I slowly began to pick up the tricks of the trade. I learned to become a rogue while I hunted men in Stormwind. At the time, I didn't think of it that way though. I saw a man pick another man's pocket, and I needed money to eat so when I had a chance, I imitated him. Once, in Cutthroat Alley, I saw someone get stabbed in the back, so later I tried it out with a dagger I had. I kept paying attention to a lot of things, and learned the basics for myself. It wasn't until I killed that Defias monster, named Alessandre in Westfall, that I realized I wanted to become a rogue professionally."

Shadowstep balked. So Myrielle _had_ been right. "So… twenty years ago, you decided to officially become a rogue?" he clarified.

"No, not exactly. But you probably think that because it's what I tell people who have to know something about my past. Twenty years is a convenient span of time… but I don't like to think of myself as a rogue before Westfall. I was doing roguish things, but I was no better than those cutthroats I hunted. No self respecting rogue could call that kind of stuff rogue-work. Starshatter and I were in Westfall, at the right place, at the right time. Killing that Defias monster was a true test of my skills and it was on that day I knew I'd finally become somebody important. I wasn't a monster anymore. I was the kind of person who killed monsters like Alessandre, for the right reasons. After that, I gleaned what information I could from the professional trainers in the Alliance, but I never saw the same man twice and used various aliases. Finally, when I felt ready to return to civilization as an honest person for the first time in almost a thousand years, I took the one name that ever meant something to me: Alessandre."

Alessandre was obviously proud of his dramatic transformation, but he resisted smiling so much at his trial. "I never thought I would ever ask someone to show me mercy. Everything I ever did after Silithus was to become stronger, or else prove that I was a better person than who I really was. That I ended up here, finally in Darnassian custody, proves that I was being arrogant, yet again. But, Priestess Feathershine, I beg you to show compassion. It took meeting your Opalbane for me to finally recapture the beauty in life, to remember that it existed in every person, whether they were a no good beggar like I was for centuries or not."

Feathershine interrupted Alessandre. "And, you killed because a part of you was truly mad. You really _did_ believe that killing those men was the same as killing the cultists who destroyed Arianna." She looked at Alessandre carefully. "I've peered into the minds of heartless killers, but yours is completely different. You have a layered consciousness. Perhaps you think that my Opalbane saved you, but she didn't. You believe that she is Arianna, and that Arianna saved you."

Alessandre began to object to this immediately. "I know they are different people! I could not have been with Arianna the way I was with Opalbane." He stopped going into detail about his romantic experience with Feathershine's daughter when the Priestess of Elune gave him a look.

She raised an eyebrow at his outburst and continued to explain her findings. "I don't doubt that you love my daughter. I can feel that much in you with my spell. This is going to be difficult for you to hear, but I think you deserve to know the truth after everything… Mirothalas Shademoon, you are insane."

Both Alessandre and Shadowstep looked astounded.

Feathershine kept going on casually about Alessandre's true mental state, as if the fact that Alessandre was really crazy didn't bother her at all. "It's been a thousand years, and your psyche has been distressed in a way that is hard to explain… but I understand. When you left Silithus, after losing your entire life, you were forced to come up with a new identity. It took many lifetimes to get rid of the anger and hurt that consumed you, but I can tell from your muddled memories that much of it involved you trying time and again to be someone else, but these new identities failed you every time, because of the anger. Since the Archdruid stripped you of your rank, you have been stuck in a kind of loop… you have common sense, and you know that today is not the same day and season that you defected from the Darnassian army. But your spirit is broken, your heart confused—perhaps those are the permanent effects of the excommunication process—in a way that, tragically, can never be fully healed. You were not able to escape that cycle, no matter who you tried to be. However, this story does have a happy ending."

Shadowstep was startled at Feathershine's smile. Alessandre tried not to look too hopeful. "Yes?" he asked her.

"When you became Alessandre, you finally got it right. It scares most people to think of it this way, but sanity is a precarious thing. When our minds are torn apart by grief, or we get mad at our little friends in the schoolyard and do something foolish to get them back, we momentarily forget ourselves. The Master Rogue is giving me a horrible look right now because he is not a highly trained Priestess of Elune. He can never dream of understanding my conclusions regarding the soul because he only understands manipulation and threatening the truth out of people."

Shadowstep rolled his eyes.

"Maybe you understand that Opalbane is not Arianna, but your mind can't really separate the two." Feathershine sat up then and leaned across the table. She lovingly caressed the side of Alessandre's face, as would a mother. "But never fear, dearest. It is what your heart needs. You've walked all over Azeroth for hundreds of years—though you don't remember it—looking for your Arianna, looking for a perfect woman with a pure heart and… well, some cultist tendencies too, that made you feel like you were nineteen again. Your heart needed that to finally get back on the right track. Praise Elune that you found that in my daughter. It is only sheer grace of the goddess that you found Opalbane in exactly the state she was in Stormwind, or else you might have missed her completely. It was just the trigger you needed to finally break out of this cycle and pick up where you left off."

"I… I don't understand. Feathershine, I killed so many people. I remember planning it… it was an addiction, I couldn't escape—"

Feathershine got up from where she was sitting and moved around the table to Alessandre's side.

"Your mind is not your own, love. You lost it on the very day that the Archdruid chose to take revenge on you. I'm sorry, but you can never get it back. It is hard to explain, but you've managed to survive the madness by convincing yourself over and over again that you were someone else. Your final transformation in Westfall was profound but, that alone could not have saved you. That you went to Stormwind to start your normal life with a new job as Opalbane's bodyguard, and only ended up in Cutthroat Alley again is proof of this. To heal your broken spirit you needed to be a new man, which you did in Westfall. But, for your mental health, you needed to stop reliving the past, change it completely so that it would not hurt you anymore. The only way to achieve something like that would be to go back in time and alter events already long gone. You attempted to go back and save Arianna before, remember? That is what you told us a little while ago. It was too late to save Arianna back then, but it was not too late to save Opalbane a few weeks ago. When you made the choice to save my daughter, you were finally able to alter your broken consciousness. The past and the present finally united within your troubled soul. And might I add that you did a wonderful job with my daughter." Priestess Feathershine motioned for Alessandre to get up, but before he was completely on his feet, she hugged him.

Priestess Feathershine began to cry. "I love you dear… you are so precious. One thousand and nineteen years old, but still as young as your last day in Silithus, you poor boy." Aware of Shadowstep's heated gaze, Alessandre cautiously hugged Priestess Feathershine back. "No wonder my daughter cares so deeply for you. Maybe she does not know everything, but she could tell that you needed her. Maybe she refused to become a Priestess of Elune, but like one of us, her heart must be made of gold."

Priestess Feathershine leaned up on her toes and kissed Alessandre's forehead. He allowed himself to smile at her warm gesture.

Shadowstep cleared his throat loudly and Feathershine indulged her secret lover at last. She separated from the rogue she'd recently become maternally fond of.

"You can't possibly be done with him already, Feathershine. There is still a lot more that Darnassus needs to know." Shadowstep objected.

"You mean, a lot more that you would like to know. I am ready to pass my judgment." She smiled at Alessandre.

"Stop it, Feathershine," Shadowstep warned.

"I find Mirothalas Shadowmoon innocent on all accounts."

Both men just stared at Priestess Feathershine.

Alessandre stood. "Priestess… I've dreaded this day from the moment I left Silithus a thousand years ago. I _did _defect from the Darnassian army. I wrongly accused the Archdruid of corruption, disobeyed a direct order… I am _not_ innocent. I killed people. I killed a lot of people." He sounded delirious.

"You were not yourself." She insisted.

"Their blood is on my hands!" Alessandre shouted. Even Shadowstep flinched.

"Do you think I don't know that killing people is wrong, even if they are criminals hanging out in Cutthroat Alley that the courts have not tried yet? I am well aware of this, Alessandre. But I've looked into your head, I've peered into your heart and soul, and I know that you were not yourself when you did these things. Furthermore, the trauma of the Archdruid's barbaric practice set you along that path. As I said before, your mind has been irrevocably lost. It is still gone, and always will be. Maybe other excommunicated druids took their lives to escape the madness. You made up a new identity for yourself, which is much the same thing. But the result of the excommunication process is the same in either scenario. You, Mirothalas Shademoon, have been, and always will be insane."

"You are free to go." She emphasized, and folded her hands up into the sleeves of her long priestly robes.

Alessandre swayed on his feet. It was good news, but also very disturbing. He did not like to think of himself as insane… but perhaps that very fact was evidence of his madness. How could Alessandre have done all the horrible things in his past and not be truly insane? Alessandre stared into nothingness for a long moment, as it all began to make sense. It was deeply satisfying--though a little upsetting--to finally know the sad truth about himself. With a deep sigh, he turned to go, but Shadowstep stepped into his way.

"Perhaps the priestess finds you innocent, but I'm not so easily swayed by emotion." Then he looked over Alessandre's shoulder at Feathershine. "As his class leader, I have a say in his punishment too, you know. What you did to our friends in Stormwind over the last two hundred years was cold-blooded murder. I will not stand for it."

"I've already passed my judgment." Feathershine warned the Master Rogue.

"That is because you know how much your daughter cares for him. You'd rather have her marry a murderer then get on her bad side." Shadowstep spat back. Priestess Feathershine averted her eyes.

"He's a good person deep down." She defended her judgement.

"There _will_ be justice." Shadowstep narrowed his eyes at Alessandre. "Since I am your class leader--however you became a rogue--my judgment counts here as well. It is my opinion that you are guilty, on all accounts. What do you think of that?"

Alessandre furrowed his brow. "I don't know how to feel… but it's fair, I think. I guess I deserve both verdicts, one for each of my personalities. The rogue in me has finally been exonerated, though the druid in me has been captured at last." He smiled sadly.

Shadowstep shrugged. "Your sincerity is charming, but I'm not the right gender for it, am I?" Shadowstep smiled cruelly at him. "You are as guilty as sin, and I sentence you to hard labor for the rest of your life."

Alessandre looked confused at first by the vague punishment, but then he smirked confidently. "Oh, I see what is going on here. You made up your mind about what you wanted to do with me before you even got in here. Let's see, how would you define "hard labor?" Will I be carrying heavy rocks up and down a steep hill for years and years? Shoveling dirt behind the Cenarion Enclave, perhaps? If you put it that way, you could have me do whatever you want."

Shadowstep folded his hands behind his back and went on as if he didn't understand Alessandre's sarcasm. "You will be beholden to me. As the Master Rogue, I know best how to select assignments that someone with your unique skill will find challenging. Whenever I retire, the next Master Rogue will continue the process."

"Do you think I am going to be your personal minion, and run all over Azeroth risking my hide to take out various people? I might be a druid as well as a rogue, but I'm not some kind of monster, that you can send even into Thrall's chamber! This is precisely why I didn't want anyone to know about my powers! I'm not an idiot, Shadowstep. I'll not be abused that way."

"You will also seek treatment for your addiction to "ganking people", as they call it these days, from a druid I will assign to you in the Cenarion Enclave. That should improve your abilities, and curb that nasty split personality you have. Also, you are not to tell another soul that you are a druid."

Alessandre lost complete control of himself. "I will NOT hand myself over to the Archdruid again! Do you know what they would do to me if they found out? Do you really want to release the monster brooding inside of me onto Stormwind again, or the Exodar, Ironforge, or even Darnassus? I warn you, you are playing with fire, Master Rogue."

Shadowstep didn't budge on the matter at all. "Complain all you want, Mirothalas. I own you now."

Priestess Feathershine gently cleared her throat. "Are you quite through, Shadowstep?"

"Certainly. I believe we're done here." He turned to leave.

"No, actually, we're not done at all." Priestess Feathershine smiled. She rubbed Alessandre's back in gentle circles until he calmed down and faced her.

"My dearest, there is a reason that they put Priestesses of Elune in charge of these proceedings." Then, she pinched Alessandre's cheeks like a grandmother and began to talk to him in a mock baby voice. "Now, I don't want you to mind any silly little thing that mean man just said to you, okay?" Then she glared at Shadowstep to make her point. Shadowstep's jaw clenched, and he folded his arms across his chest.

"Now," she said, composing herself and went on, "I am going to override Shadowstep's punishment. I am allowed to do it on rare occasions when the class leader I make my ruling with is clearly biased against you. This man, who is always jealous when I show kindness to another male person, is clearly outstepping his bounds. He wants to bury you so deep that you will never see the sun or moon again. But I'm not going to have that."

"He doesn't even know about us! How can he be seducing you, for me to be jealous?" Shadowstep flared.

Feathershine sighed. "Everyone knows about us, Jebbidiath. And, if I tell Tyrande that you ruled out of passion after we three were locked in a confessional cell with this gorgeous creature for hours, she'll believe me." Then she narrowed her eyes at Shadowstep. "Even if it isn't actually true."

Alessandre almost burst out laughing at Shadowstep's real name. A stern look from his guild leader made him think twice, though.

"Alessandre—and I call you this because it is your rightful name—I sentence you thus." Priestess Feathershine continued. "Though I find you innocent of the murders in Stormwind, I only do so because you are truly and fully insane. Your mind is not your own, and any Priestess of Elune who reads your mind will be convinced of this as well. Therefore, I order you to spend the rest of your life in the care of a skilled Kaldorei priestess." She raised an eyebrow to make it obvious to everyone in the room that she did not say 'Priestess of Elune' for a reason. "It will be her duty to love, honor, and cherish you as if you were her own kin, as is befitting a person with a gentle psyche like yours. Alessandre, do you think we can get said Kaldorei priestess to agree to that, in an official kind of way that no one can deny?"

"Oh, this is rich." Shadowstep complained aloud and rolled his eyes.

Priestess Feathershine only smiled at Alessandre.

"I… I don't know what to say. Are you giving me your blessing?"

Feathershine pursed her lips. "For the record, I can't, but since Shadowstep owes me many favors, I think he can 'happen not to hear' what I am about to say next." Then she paused. Shadowstep threw his hands up in the air and turned his back on both of them.

"Yes, for the love of Elune, please marry my daughter!" Feathershine begged him, while Shadowstep pretended not to listen.

Alessandre bit his lower lip and blinked at the ceiling so that no one could see how emotional he was getting. Just when he thought his life was over, he was getting a second chance.

"But, I do agree with Shadowstep on one thing, however. Two things, actually. First, I think that you should seek treatment for your problem. I didn't release you into Azeroth to wreak havoc you know. Perhaps Shadowstep seems like a villain to you, and I also complain about him, but the Master Rogue can also be very gentle. I think he understands that you need some help, and I don't think he offered you access to his secret druid contacts within the Cenarion Enclave because he wanted to see you get hurt. Furthermore, I suggest you also take advantage of the offer because Shadowstep may go to extraneous means to control you in some way if you don't give him some kind of leverage over you. Since he is your guild leader and the Master Rogue of Darnassus afterall, it's only a fair compromise."

Shadowstep looked at Feathershine sideways, but he wouldn't admit that he agreed with her.

"Secondly, about your being a druid…" Priestess Feathershine put this very carefully. "I am very tempted to rule one way or another about this, but I can't imagine how having to absorb your druid past into your new identity will affect you. Not that I'm advocating for you to lie to my daughter, I could never condone something like that." Her long green eyebrows wilted as she admitted to her failure. "But I just can't, in all my years of sentencing people, see what you should do in this situation. There is far too much at stake whether you tell her or you don't. I will leave that decision in your hands, since you are the only one who will suffer the consequences. I do strongly suggest that you tell Opalbane though. I feel confident that she will understand."

"Just like a woman, to give such a weak sentence." Shadowstep complained.

"Just for that, I'm not coming over tonight." Feathershine put in quickly without missing a beat. Shadowstep began to brood about this immediately.

Alessandre looked at both of his captors. He couldn't believe this was happening. "So, I can go, just like that?"

"Yes." Feathershine squeezed his hand.

Alessandre went to the door. Grudgingly, Shadowstep moved away from it.

"I'm going to finish my mission." Alessandre told him. "Maybe I'm free to do what I like, but I don't want to see Opalbane get hurt. I really do love her." he told Shadowstep. Shadowstep nodded. Something still nagged at Alessandre though, and he had to ask.

"I hate to bring this up, but before I go and commit myself to Opalbane, I think you all should know… she doesn't react very well to my fel mana. I wouldn't mention it at all, but I think my marrying her will actually put your daughter at risk. After what you've done for me, I just couldn't bear—"

"No, that's not what happened." Feathershine went and sat back down behind the table. Shadowstep joined her, taking Alessandre's place on the bench.

Alessandre almost fell over. He hadn't sensed Feathershine going that deep into his mind. She'd seen how he and Opalbane made love?

Priestess Feathershine blushed a bright pink. "Every woman… _changes_ when on their moon cycle. Opalbane has always been a bit weird during that time of month. I've heard her talk in those demonic voices before. I'm afraid it has nothing to do with Zar'teus or the cultists though. It's just her way."

Alessandre's eyes went wide. "So, when she—?"

"Yes."

"And then when I—?"

"No, that's just your strangeness. But it did seem to help her for some reason."

"And then later that night, when we—"

Priestess Feathershine sighed. "It's her way, Alessandre. Please don't ask me any more questions about your Wreathe Day two nights ago. Evenso, I hope you won't hold something like that against Opalbane. I don't know where it comes from. Her younger brother isn't like that at all, even when he gets very emotional."

Alessandre's eyes went wide. Of course he couldn't say it in polite company, but any man who experienced what he had with a woman two nights earlier would feel like he'd hit the sexual jackpot. It was like he'd made love to two women in one night, and there was never going to be anything wrong with it, as far as his girlfriend was concerned. "Oh, no, I never could hold that kind of thing against her… in fact, I think I even fixed her for the time being."

Shadowstep scowled. "I am _not_ going to ask what you mean by that."

Feathershine began to shake her head. "Nor will I. Alessandre, you're a darling, but will you please go and become one with my daughter already? That Mind Vision Spell has already made us far closer than I need to be as your mother-in-law, and I've already suffered through that kind of thing with my _other_ foster-child." Her features flooded with irritation when she brought up Onyxbane.

Alessandre thanked them both profusely, and then rushed out of the room. When he exited the Temple of Elune, he ran. He ran for his life. He forced some gold into the hand of some young soldier walking by the bank and told him to tell Priestess Opalbane to meet him in the Temple Gardens in an hour. Then, he darted off to make preparations before the kid could ask too many more questions.

"Why do they always give such confusing quests, with no directions at all!" the kid whined and went off to find this Priestess Opalbane in Darnassus.

Of course, for that reason it took a while. At sunset, Opalbane walked up the long ramp to the entrance of the temple then made a right. She was wearing a simple blue dress that she hadn't thought too much about. Though the priestess felt it was odd for Alessandre to send someone to summon her, she tried not to worry about it. He'd been gone all day, but she assumed it was rogue business. She hoped against hope that he wouldn't tell her something was wrong and that he had to leave for Stormwind right away or someplace else even more dangerous.

When she entered the tiny domed alcove, the shadowpriestess was at first taken aback by the abundance of beautiful flowers hanging everywhere, off of the tree branches and even covering the walls and ceiling. Obviously, someone was getting engaged. Adorning a place with flowers like that was a part of the Kaldorei custom. As she occasionally did when coming to the Temple Gardens and seeing the place decorated thus, Opalbane felt a painful stab of jealousy.

Finally, Opalbane looked down from the gorgeous decorated walls and saw Alessandre there. He was down on one knee.

The shadowpriestess' hands trembled. She covered her mouth, shaking her head that it could not be so.

"Yes, Moonlily. I do love you this much." Alessandre calmly reassured her. Then he opened the little wooden box in his hand. A tiny carved trinket lay inside. A fluted bright flower done in tiny yellow pearls.

"Shadowpriestess Opalbane, daughter of the pale woman you named yourself for in Felwood, daughter of the dark man you named your brother for in Felwood, foster daughter and no less beloved by Priestess Feathershine of Darnassus…" then he chuckled softly, "Whomever you are, will you marry me?"

Opalbane was overjoyed. She ran to embrace him but the horrible hollow whistle of an enormous weapon being drawn and dragged through the air came between them. Alessandre got up immediately to challenge the stranger. But when he looked up the length of the gigantic Arcanite Reaper that kept him from the woman he loved, then up the taught muscular arms that held onto the horrible implement, Alessandre saw a face that was far too familiar.

A menacing smile broke blue skin and spread the jawline that reminded Alessandre of Opalbane. His long white braids completed the effect.

"Onyxbane?" Alessandre made a hasty guess before attacking the stranger.

"Have you ever seen an Arcanite Reaper before?"

Alessandre inhaled an annoyed breath. Yes, this was Opalbane's little brother Onyxbane. Except that he wasn't so little. Alessandre considered himself the king of witty remarks. The rogue briefly wondered what he could say to his girlfriend's brother to throw off what was obviously some kind of silly line the warrior liked. That the axe was right in front of Alessandre's face made it an incredibly stupid question for Onyxbane to ask. But Alessandre saw the fear flash in Opalbane's eyes, and he knew that he couldn't fight with her brother.

"No." Alessandre said, sensing that was the answer the warrior wanted.

"It's about this big," Onyxbane said, and brandished the deathly blade with a laughing skull at its center. Steel spikes ripped up out of the blue leather handholds along the shaft. "And I'm going to shove it up something sensitive if you don't STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

Onyxbane's clear threat resounded in the Temple Garden, and even shook some of the carefully placed flowers from the tree branches and stone walls. Alessandre went pale.


	26. Who's marrying whom now! And WHY?

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Twenty-Six: Who's Marrying Whom Now? And WHY??**

Alessandre and Onyxbane glared at each other for an impossible moment. The handsome rogue was taller than the warrior by a whole head, but Onyxbane was not one to be intimidated by a sheer size difference. Alessandre might be a professional assassin, but Onyxbane was a professional warrior in his own right. Opalbane's pale blue-skinned brother had stared down the gullets of horrible monsters in countless dungeons all over the face of Azeroth.

"Do you think I'm afraid of you because you've got that nice armor and a _rapier_?" Onyxbane mocked the assassin Alessandre.

"Do you think that monstrous battle axe intimidates me any? It just makes you even more slow than you are stupid." Alessandre scowled back.

"The ladies say you have pretty face," Onyxbane chuckled at Alessandre's expense, "but that just means you haven't been in any good fights. I think a black eye would go nicely with those so-called dark good looks." Onyxbane smiled at his clever joke. He didn't make too many of them, so he was especially proud of this one. "Sissy, hold the Reaper." Onyxbane actually handed the axe to his sister so that he could beat up her boyfriend.

Opalbane scowled and snatched the Arcanite Reaper from her brother. Her shadowform flared up instantly. "What is it that I've always told you about NOT TOUCHING MY THINGS!" she shouted at her little brother.

Onyxbane retorted, "We aren't talking about some doll of yours, Sissy. This man is an imposter, a murderer! I'll not allow you to marry him. And give me my Reaper back." Onyxbane stamped his foot and sounded like a little boy at the end of his tirade.

Opalbane pointed her finger in her little brother's face. "If you dare lay a hand on my Alessandre—"

"Hold on now, Opalbane. I can handle this myself. If it's a fight your brother wants…" and Alessandre began to roll up the long sleeves of his shirt.

"I'll kill you if you dare lay a hand on my little brother!" Opalbane suddenly flashed angry eyes at her boyfriend too. Both Onyxbane and Alessandre looked at each other, in genuine confusion.

"He started it!" they both burst forth at once.

Wisthera entered the little alcove then. "Now that's enough! Really! Onyxbane, you get away from that axe. We are _not_ breaking up Al and your sister."

"_Al_?" Alessandre flinched. Opalbane was supposed to be the only one who called him that.

"But he's a murderer! Just look at him… he's not a good guy, plus he's a rogue!"

"I was found innocent." Alessandre flashed a look at Opalbane who seemed concerned. "It was just some confusion," he panicked and lied hurriedly. "I assassinated the wrong person, or so Shadowstep said." Alessandre cringed at being deceitful, but he just wanted to marry the woman he loved. He didn't want any complications.

Onyxbane insisted that Alessandre was no good, but then Wisthera flew into a tirade about how she was a rogue too, and that not all rogues were bad, just take herself for example… Of course, using herself as an example was a bad idea because Wisthera had been a successful con artist from the day she'd left Teldrassil as a novice until about two months ago when Priestess Feathershine found out and made her stop. Failing there, Wisthera mentioned other rogues she knew who could also be considered good people. But, as it turned out, Master Rogue Shadowstep, his Second Commander Myrielle, and some of her old girlfriends from Thelsamar were all horrible examples because they were conniving, manipulative shady types though stand up citizens by rogue standards.

Opalbane stared at Wisthera as she spoke. The way that other female elf stood, gesticulated, everything about her brother's girlfriend was off for some reason. At first Opalbane couldn't place it, but then Wisthera took a deep exhausted breath and rubbed her belly. Where was the tight form-fitting leather the seductive ex-con artist normally wore?

"You're pregnant!" Opalbane blurted out.

Wisthera paused mid-sentence. Her blue skin blushed until even the tips of her long ears started to look purple.

"I'm right?" Opalbane stammered.

"Well, I'm not getting fat, if that's what you mean. I only found out about a month ago, and then it turned out I was farther along than I thought. It's been about five months."

Everyone hesitated for a moment as they did a mental calculation as to the date the baby was made. Opalbane half worried that her brother wasn't the father, while Alessandre half worried that he was.

"Oh wait!" Alessandre announced triumphantly after a time. "You are the one woman on the face of Azeroth I _didn't _sleep with, thank the goddess. Wow, it really is a relief to not be worrying about that for once."

Opalbane glared at her boyfriend, and her shadowform flared menacingly before she put it out.

"Thank you for reminding me of that, Al." Wisthera folded her arms across her chest and grimaced.

"Why are you upset that you didn't sleep with my boyfriend?" Opalbane demanded of Wisthera.

"And why do you have a nickname for Alessandre, if you didn't sleep with him?" Onyxbane likewise questioned Wisthera.

Alessandre shook his head with disappointment. "And who said you of all people were allowed to procreate? Like we need any more lying, cheating, whack-job women rogues running around Thelsamar ruining people's lives." Alessandre put in, slyly insulting Wisthera while her boyfriend the warrior was distracted.

Both Opalbane and Onyxbane left off questioning Wisthera and stared at Alessandre.

"Maybe she's _your_ girlfriend Onyxbane," Alessandre defended himself, "and is going to make you an auntie Opalbane, but she's still my enemy. I refuse to be friendly towards you, you lying, heartless harpy witch!" Alessandre's began walking toward Wisthera, but Onyxbane put his naked palm flat against Alessandre's chest.

"Don't talk to my girlfriend like that." The warrior warned.

"You call that a girlfriend?" Alessandre smirked. Onyxbane's mouth opened in mute shock. He balled his free hand into a fist, and brought it around…

"Stop it, everyone! Please!" Wisthera pleaded and stepped imbetween Onyxbane and Alessandre. "This is all my fault… please, just let me explain. Alessandre, you have a good reason to hate me. In fact, everyone here does, especially Onyxbane. But he forgave me for that back in Silithus." Wisthera sighed unhappily. "I'm hoping that once I tell you what's really going on here, the two of you will forgive me also. We're practically family now… this is not the way to start our lives together."

"Hello? My girlfriend's brother just tried to kill me. I don't think that makes us relatives, but more like the opposite." Alessandre began to complain but Opalbane narrowed her eyes at him.

Wisthera took a deep breath, and started talking. "Five months ago, I met a man named Onyxbane, who I fell head over heels in love with, though I wasn't supposed to. It turned out that he was hunting the con artist who got his sister into trouble with the Stormwind Guard and he had no idea I was the woman he was looking for. And… it also turned out that he left me with child after that first night we spent together." Wisthera couldn't help smiling. "I'm glad I found out after we had our Wreathe Day. I certainly wasn't ready for the news until then, when I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with my dear Onyx."

Onyxbane couldn't help smiling himself.

"Anyways, I later got thrown into jail and then tried in Darnassus for conning his sister Opalbane out of a lot of money over the last ten years. Priestess Feathershine was my jailor at the time, and she dragged me all over the world to look for the woman I wronged to make up for it. Two months ago, right around the time that you were hired Alessandre, my sentence finally ended and I was allowed to go and live with the love of my life. I suppose that most of you here know that part about my life already… the part you don't know is what happened when Onyxbane and I finally got home."

Alessandre rolled his eyes. "I really don't want to know what you do in the privacy of—"

"I felt really guilty about hurting my boyfriend's sister, so I set this whole thing up."

Alessandre stopped short. Opalbane shared a look with her brother, but Onyxbane just shrugged that it wasn't his fault.

"There is no way," Alessandre started to say.

"Alessandre, did you really believe it when Master Rogue Shadowstep summoned you to Darnassus about two months ago? I mean, could you really believe that he had a dream job waiting for you?"

Alessandre did not want to answer this. "Well, after you ruined my career back in Thelsamar, I didn't expect him to even consider me. But it's not like I'm completely incompetent—"

"No, you're not incompetent. You are a very capable agent. I know that better than anyone else because I was the one who had to sift through all your careful layers of secrecy in order to expose your investigation at Thelsamar. Back then, King Magni Bronzebeard hired you to do the most important work that could ever be done for the Dwarves in Ironforge. King Bronzebeard is wise. He chose you well. I was the one who leaked the secrets of the Maker's Terrace and destroyed his well-founded trust in you."

Wisthera rubbed her belly in idle circles as she continued. "I made it look like you couldn't keep a secret if your life depended on it, ensuring that no sane spymaster would ever hire you for decent work again. Now, don't you dare think I did any of this because I felt I owed you any favors. I did all of this for Opalbane. When Onyxbane was forced to leave Stormwind and the Human lands because my bad reputation in the courts would not allow us to live there, he felt terrible about leaving his sister behind and alone. Onyxbane had a year-long Wreathe Day commitment to honor with me, but Ashenvale was the only place we could live. Then, I felt twice as guilty because Opalbane went to Silithus after my ten-year con fell through. That she was stuck recovering in Stormwind was mostly my fault. I wanted to do something nice for her."

Wisthera began to pace and ended up standing next to Opalbane. "I'm sorry if it seems crude, Opal, but in my book, the greatest gift you can give a woman is a good lover. Though I hadn't tested him out myself, I knew that the best Kaldorei lover in all of Azeroth was a rogue named Alessandre: someone that I did not know well enough to ask any favors of, though I did have enough dirt on him to manipulate him into doing what I wanted."

Alessandre scowled. "Wisthera, this is ridiculous even for you. Is your ego so big that you're even going to claim that you made Opalbane and I fall in love? And what about Feathershine and the Master Rogue himself? They would never do what you wanted of them."

Wisthera smiled sadly. "Yes, Priestess Feathershine and Master Rogue Shadowstep are two people at the top of a long list of my enemies. They loathe me, and would never agree to help me get you and Opalbane in bed."

Opalbane blinked at her brother. Onyxbane looked around, as if he didn't know what Wisthera was talking about.

Wisthera patted Opalbane's shoulder. "Opal, forgive me for saying this, but you are three years older than your brother and before Alessandre came into your life you hadn't even kissed a man before. To put it nicely, you were heading to spinsterhood in a handbasket."

Opalbane started to object, but then she shrugged. "You'd be right about that." She conceded.

Wisthera smiled. "When Priestess Feathershine wrote to Onyxbane two months ago and asked him to suggest a warrior friend as a bodyguard for Opalbane, I saw my in. Of course Feathershine couldn't know that Alessandre was _my _suggestion, but if I got Onyxbane to go along with it, she would never have to know that it was my idea. Once one of her beloved children convinced Feathershine to hire Alessandre, she'd be tough as nails for Shadowstep to go against. Shadowstep would of course be wary of Feathershine's suggestion. However, the Master Rogue would recall the rumors about my ruining Alessandre's career in Thelsamar and become enamored with the prospect of getting me back for ruining his assignment to investigate the cultists in Silithus…" she paused for emphasis, "by giving my failed Twilight Cultist assignment to my number one enemy in the Kaldorei Rogue Network: Alessandre."

It was certainly a mouthful. Everyone in the garden waited for Wisthera to catch her breath.

"So you see, I played into Shadowstep's hatred of me to get Alessandre hired because I knew that the Master Rogue wouldn't pass up an opportunity to get me back for ruining an assignment. Feathershine is pretty easy to maneuver if you can get one of her children to do it. Alessandre would certainly take the job, since with his career in the garbage, he really had no other choice. That left only one problem: convincing Opalbane to give into this excellent lover once he arrived at her doorstep."

"Yes, how did you do that all the way across The Great Sea, from Ashenvale?" Alessandre still did not look convinced.

"Well, Opalbane probably doesn't like me very much, after what I did to her. I would bet good gold that she doesn't trust me either. I was tempted to just rely on Alessandre to do his usual thing and seduce a beautiful woman, but I know from experience that not everyone gets to bed _the_ Alessandre." Wisthera still sounded bitter over missing her chance with the handsome rogue all those months ago. Onyxbane groaned loudly. "I needed someone else, someone that Opalbane trusted completely with her secrets… Onyxbane was out because I don't think that Opalbane would be comfortable talking to her brother about sex—"

"You told Willypearl to write those letters!" Opalbane concluded. "But, how did you ever convince her?"

"I didn't. In fact, if I made the first move, I knew that Willypearl would get suspicious. In fact, she wrote me a nasty letter that was dripping with suspicion and accusations after she found out that your new bodyguard just happened to be an old acquaintance of mine. She almost ruined everything."

Wisthera walked over to stand at Onyxbane's side. "I couldn't tell Willypearl what was going on, because she hates me too. But… I could pretty much guess what she would say if I told you to do something." Wisthera paused, grinning wide at the genius of it all. "I told her how much I hated Alessandre for rejecting me back in Thelsamar. I told her I was burning up with jealousy over it, and that no other woman deserved to have him, and that you Opalbane, shouldn't risk your neck to attract his attention."

"I don't see where you lied about any of that." Onyxbane shrugged.

Wisthera narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend but pressed forward with her story. "Willypearl, I'm sure, told you to do the exact opposite of whatever it is I said. Am I right?"

Opalbane nodded. Wisthera beamed. "I knew I could count on old Willy to get me back. Maybe she won't admit it if you ask her—she's far too nice for that—but she wants to get revenge on me as badly as Shadowstep or Alessandre. Opalbane, I even told you _not_ to go after Alessandre, because I knew that you were upset with me deep down and would be tempted to do the opposite. And to seal the deal--and maybe I got too carried away by going this far--I told Opalbane a few little white lies about Alessandre."

Alessandre's dark blue eyebrows raised at this.

"Don't worry Al. It's just the standard sort of thing, that you're rich and powerful, but needed saving. That's all a woman really needs to know to get interested, at least in the first place. I certainly didn't know anything about you other than the rumors and that you are an excellent rogue. I felt you were trustworthy and honorable… well, you would do the job that Shadowstep put before you. I didn't need to trust you with Opalbane's honor, since I wanted you to take advantage of her."

Opalbane began shaking her head. "I don't understand… this whole thing… you were playing a game with us?" she started to sound upset. "You knew how to make us fall in love?"

Wisthera rested her head on Onyxbane's shoulder and patted her stomach. "Opal, sweetheart, I didn't know _that_ would happen. In all honestly, I just wanted Alessandre to show you a good time so that you'd lighten up a bit. I wanted you to smile for once. Your brother wanted you to start smiling too, and he trusted me with the task. I _did_ ask his permission first you know." Wisthera straightened. "The rest… is just good chemistry, or alchemy, whatever." She waved her hand dismissively. "I mean, just look at the two of you. You are so in love. It's obvious to anyone who sees you together."

"But you were the one who told me to trick Alessandre into giving me his Wreathe. You told me to act like a romancer, just like my brother."

Alessandre's eyes went wide. "Wisthera… you didn't push her into that, did you?"

Wisthera started to look worried. "It's not like it was a lie… Opalbane _wanted_ to sleep with you… she loves you. That much was obvious from her letters."

Alessandre turned his back on all of them. His head bowed, and he covered his hands with his face.

"Al… Al, are you alright?" Opalbane fretted.

Alessandre came and seized Wisthera by the arm. Onyxbane made a move to stop the rogue but his sister made him stay calm. The two siblings watched as their lovers left the garden.

Alessandre forced Wisthera outside and around a private corner, but she broke free of his grasp at the last moment. "If you're mad at me, then fine." She sniped, "But I didn't do this to get back at you, Al. I did it to make Opalbane happy. And it worked."

Alessandre turned to face her. His eyes were wet.

"Do you even know…" it took him some time to control his voice. "The years of pain… ten lifetimes… that one selfless act has brought me the only joy I've felt in a thousand years."

Wisthera got quiet. She had no idea that Alessandre had lived so long. Nor had she ever seen him so overcome with emotion.

"I am indebted to you for bringing us together. I didn't believe you at first but… it makes so much sense. Shadowstep would have never selected me on his own. Of course Feathershine convinced him, and one of her own children would have to convince her… and who else would tell her son about me than someone who knew me well. You are the only one who could have done it. And that Wreathe Day was the most important thing. Do you know that I almost lost her, because I was so afraid to make a committment? If you hadn't pushed Opalbane into demanding love from me… I might have never confessed my true feelings for her."

Wisthera leaned against the wall. "Look, I've obviously upset you. I'm sorry—"

"Sorry? Why would you be sorry? I'm… I'm overjoyed! I found the woman I'd been searching for my entire life." Alessandre's rich voice broke. "How can I ever thank you?"

"Oh, you don't need to do that." Wisthera blushed purple again.

"Yes I do. Does Shadowstep know about this?"

Wisthera shrugged. "He almost found out earlier today, but I distracted him. Onyxbane and I just went and laid low afterwards. We didn't even want to tell your sister what we did. She was supposed to think that she attracted you on her own… I didn't want to say anything—"

"Well why not? What you did was ingenious. Whether you realize it or not, you sensed a great deal more about and Opalbane, myself, and probably all the others when you set the pieces in motion. You have a real knack for manipulating people."

"It's not really a talent. At my trial a few months back, Priestess Feathershine taught me that manipulating people is wrong and—"

"Priestess Feathershine is not a rogue. She doesn't understand that sometimes the darker arts of our profession can do a great deal of good. I hate to say this, but Myrielle and I have a lot more competition for Master Rogue than we first thought. You are incredibly talented, and deserve a chance at the position as well." Alessandre's scratched his goatee, thinking about the possibilities. Then, he smiled. "I am going to tell Shadowstep what you did."

Wisthera cringed.

"Come on, Wisthera. It is the least I can do. It is my dream to become Master Rogue someday, but it is yours too. Any good rogue would want a chance at it, and I'm the best one to tell him. If you did, he'd just think you were bragging." Alessandre looked into Wisthera's eyes. "After all you've done for me Wisthera, I'll be sure to put in a good word for you."

Wisthera bit her lower lip and looked off into the distance. "Dear goddess… thank you Alessandre. That is about the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

"We're friends now. That's what friends do."

Not able to contain herself any longer, Wisthera hugged Alessandre tight against her. Then, she kissed him on the cheek.

"Now, tell me that I'm pretty."

Alessandre did a double take. This was going exactly the wrong way. "I don't think that's appropriate—"

"Just do it!" Wisthera commanded him. She put her hands on her hips.

"You're… pretty?"

"Like you mean it!"

Alessandre bowed down graciously, then told Wisthera that she was breathtaking. The wily female rogue giggled like a school girl.

"Good. Now we can be friends, with that out of the way. You know, I never got the chance to tell you how much it hurt when back in Thelsamar you looked me over like I was garbage and told me to 'get out of your sight.' That was really mean of you… you really hurt my feelings."

Alessandre raised his eyebrows. He finally understood why Wisthera had been so mad at him.

"I know that I have a problem with my ego. But everyone has their limit, you see." Wisthera explained. "But now that we're friends, and I know you find me attractive, that can be the end of it. I don't have to feel so bad anymore."

"I'm so sorry I was mean to you Wisthera."

"And I'm sorry that I ruined your life… and then was a bit devious while inadvertently saving it… and that I made you grope me just now."

Alessandre looked at her sideways.

"Yes, I planned that too." She winked at him.

Both rogues turned to the sound of their lovers clearing their throats. Onyxbane and Opalbane stood nearby, watching.

"Is everything alright now?" Opalbane worried.

"No, it isn't." Alessandre took cautious steps away from Wisthera. "I'm being treated like a part of this family, but I don't even know if it's official yet. You all interrupted me right when Opalbane was about to—"

"Yes!" Opalbane blurted out. "With all my heart… Oh Al, I love you so much. Of course I will be your wife."

Onyxbane and Wisthera smiled awkwardly as Alessandre embraced Opalbane and they kissed.

"You're next, little brother. Unless you want to create a scandal out of wedlock." Opalbane laughed over Alessandre's shoulder. He hugged Opalbane so tight that he lifted her off the ground. Then, he began to twirl Opalbane around in little circles.

Onyxbane exhaled deeply. "Riiight. Forgot about that. Feathershine will definitely freak out if she finds out Wisthera is giving her a grandchild, and I guess we'd better get married fast before it turns out to be a bastard grandchild. But, evenso… it doesn't change the fact that I'm happy about being a father." He wrapped his arm around Wisthera and smiled down at her.

"If you think I am going to let you steal Alessandre's thunder this evening by making a half-assed proposal of marriage to me, you've got another thing coming." Wisthera raised her eyebrows at Onyxbane.

"Looks like your girlfriend is going to make you work for it, brother-in-law." Alessandre stopped spinning Opalbane in giggling circles and cradled her in his arms. Opalbane held onto Alessandre to keep from getting dizzy off her feet, still laughing delightedly at his playful change of mood.

"Good grief. My brother-in-law is an assassin." Onyxbane suddenly worried.

"That's nothing. My brother-in-law carries an Arcanite Reaper wherever he goes, and he knows just how to use it against me."

Onyxbane chuckled at Alessandre's joke.

"Actually, it _is_ a bit of a problem, Onyxbane. You're going to need to leave the axe home tomorrow, at least."

Onyxbane asked Alessandre why that was. Opalbane and Wisthera looked confused as well.

"Because I'm shipping out for Stormwind the day after tomorrow." Alessandre explained. "That means your sister and I need to get married and fast. No offense, but I won't have any gleaming weapons ruining our wedding portraits."

Opalbane and Wisthera began screaming instantly. "Will you be my maid of honor tomorrow?" Opalbane asked Wisthera.

"We have to pick out a dress!" Wisthera cheered. They clasped hands and began jumping up and down.

Onyxbane patted Alessandre on the back. "You're a braver man than I am." He congratulated his new brother-in-law.

Alessandre sighed, unable to banish all the sadness from his voice. "It isn't the best timing, but it has to be done before I go back to Stormwind. I'll be damned if Shadowstep or anyone else gets imbetween me and my wife." Perhaps Onyxbane should have been more concerned that this assassin he just met was rushing to marry his big sister. But Onyxbane was too happy for her to even consider what could possibly go wrong.

Author's Note:

omfg... the update actually worked. I nearly went crazy there. Well, in the future, you can read updates here on this website or you can check out my personal site and read episodes there if fanfictiondotnet ever lags. I updated my profile with a link to that site if you need it.

Also... Did you think I was really going to give up a chance to write a wedding scene! Eeeee! I'm so excited! Stay tuned…


	27. A wedding is no place for a Nelf fetish

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Twenty-Seven: A wedding is no place for a male elf fetish**

"It's really her!" the Night Elf giggled. "Hey, can you design something special for my boyfriend?"

The Human mage Willypearl, affianced to paladin Sir Elec Pontier and owner of a trendy and highly successful chain of lingerie stores—the first ever in Azeroth—shrank behind her boyfriend and pulled the wide brim of her fancy cloth hat over her eyes.

The excitable Night Elf woman turned to the tall Human paladin next. "Are you really _the_ Elec? Did she really cheat on you with that Night Elf? Is that Willy's secret?"

It was true. Knight Elec was compelled by his oath as a paladin to forgive innocents. He loved Willypearl a great deal, and had wanted to forgive her two months ago when she told him the news. However, that the Light demanded he not take revenge on people like the homewrecking Night Elf Onyxbane really tried Elec's patience. And recently, Willypearl's affair with the Night Elf had launched her tailoring career, made her dreams come true. Elec did not want to stand in the way of that. Though, it was hard to be a paladin, know the religious codes so well and not find some kind of loophole to revenge. In a spectacular show of passive aggression, Elec spread another rumor to go with the rumors already driving his fiancee's business: He told everyone who asked that though his girlfriend cheated on him and made extra large underwear for her Kaldorei paramour, she'd ultimately left the Night Elf because Elec was the one who actually fit the oversized male lingerie.

He flashed a winning smile at the woman who'd asked. "Why, yes I am." Willypearl frowned at her boyfriend and nudged him in the side.

"Honey, you didn't sneak me away from your family and put off our wedding for a whole month just to come down here and spread more rumors about my old love life, which I told you _is_ over by the way."

Elec ignored Willypearl's warning and shook the young woman's hand. "You owe a visit to your friend Opalbane, and I want closure." he shrugged.

Elec's story about the underwear size wasn't exactly honest, but neither was Elec. Wielding a fiery orange war mace named after an Old God, the paladin was content to exact retribution from that no good home-wrecking Onyxbane elf wherever he went. In time, Elec knew, the rumors would reach the Night Elf's silly long ears and he would live in fear of the day when the better man—and the bigger man—came to make him pay for stealing his girlfriend. Whether or not his vow allowed Elec to actually pursue revenge wasn't for Onyxbane to know.

The woman screamed with delight, then grabbed Willypearl's hand. "My boyfriend is a Draenei! You need to make something to fit him!"she begged.

Willypearl cringed at all the crazy things they shouted at she and her boyfriend. Elec held his position bravely but the mob seemed to draw out all the people in the lonely city of Darnassus. She grabbed the golden-gauntleted hand of Knight Elec and rushed them to the only sanctuary in the city: The Temple of Elune.

A Sentinel standing guard at the Temple entrance gave them a warning look as they rushed inside, and Willypearl became self-conscious instantly. She pulled Elec aside and they slowed to a respectable walk once they got into the temple proper.

"I've never seen so many people here before, Willy." Elec gasped and tapped his girlfriend on the shoulder.

The scene inside the temple was so perfect it might as well have been a dream. Blue starlight rested on the finely dressed guests gathered about the sacred moonwell. Willypearl recognized Priestess Feathershine who stood on the ancient rock ledge. She raised her rose-colored arms, now an intoxicating lavender in this light up over her head. She made a graceful gesture before the crowd. Her bright blue mooncloth robe fairly glowed and she wore a cloth mantle on her shoulders that had slender tiered extensions, like wings. Priestess Feathershine wore a crown of the same and together they made her look like some other-worldly creature, as enchanting and awe-inspiring as a Naaru.

"A priestess of Elune." Elec wondered aloud. His warm chestnut eyes dazzled with awe. Then, with the dignified calm of a paladin, he took the hand of the woman he loved and reverently brought her to the source of the Light.

"We are gathered here today to bless the union of a new couple. Though they are not the first to stand beneath the feet of the goddess in the Temple of Elune, they will join a long tradition of married Kaldorei who came here, seeking the goddess' blessing of their love."

Willypearl wasn't very tall for a Human woman and she struggled to look above the heads of the Night Elves gathered. Who were the bride and groom? Why was Priestess Feathershine marrying them?

"Today, I am pleased to be marrying my own child." Priestess Feathershine smiled so beautifully in the shimmering aqua light of the moonwell, it would have been easy to mistake her for Elune herself. "Some of you here are also priestesses, and you know that many orphans came to the Temple to be raised after the destruction of Felwood." Her expression grew stern. "There was no justice for the demons in those days, and the banishment of the Burning Legion from this world was hard won, our precious World Tree destroyed by it, our immortal lives ruined. And, it seems, the little children of Azeroth always suffer the greatest of all the losses, whether there is victory or no. Onyxbane and Opalbane were two such babies, come here when their parents were cruelly stolen from this world. You and I raised them. Though they are not our flesh and blood, they are like the children of Darnassus herself, a symbol of what one can do even after such devastation. The boy Onyxbane, now a grown man, is a warrior and an honorable soldier of the Alliance. Today, he is also a father."

Willypearl wasn't sure, but she sensed a hint of disdain in Priestess Feathershine's voice when she said the word 'father.'

"Wait! Onyxbane is a father? When in the heck did that happen, and with whom?" Willypearl blurt out. She couldn't help sounding jealous.

A handful of annoyed Night Elves turned around and shushed her. Elec wouldn't look at his fiancée but his jaw tightened and she felt his strong arm wrap around her waist possessively.

Priestess Feathershine peered over the crowd, trying to find the source of the interruption. When she saw Willypearl, she gave an indulgent smile. "And then there is my dearest foster daughter Opalbane." Priestess Feathershine continued. "Many times, we at the Temple of Elune feared for her life, for she seemed truly lost. Her grief for her murdered parents mired her in inexplicable pain, a hatred for demons so justified but yet so powerful that we hoped it would not consume her. I admit, against my wishes she traveled to Human lands and became a shadowpriestess and left this Temple of Elune behind." Priestess Feathershine's voice became very tender then. "But, if you look upon her now, in her exquisite black dress, the color of Elune's sacred nights, one can see how she turned that thirst for revenge into strength. She understands the light as well as the shadow, and uses both to demand justice of the world. I could not ask for a better recovery for my dearest children. Today, I hope you look at them and see perfect offerings before the idol of the goddess. This is what Elune can do if only you believe with all your heart, if you give your life over to her and pray to the Light to guide you."

"Praise be to the Light." Elec bowed his head reverently with the others. Willypearl was shocked, just shocked. She knew the traditional response to prayers dedicated to the Light, but she could not stop worrying about Onyxbane being a father, and getting married! As the crowd joined Priestess Feathershine in praying aloud the special words, Willypearl could only stare ahead, woodenly. She burned up with jealous fury. Onyxbane could not have possibly taken up with that vile woman…

"May I say a few words, Feathershine?"

A dark cloud passed over Priestess Feathershine's face on hearing Wisthera's voice. Willypearl inhaled a sharp angry breath and pushed in front of Elec to see for herself.

"That harlot!" she swore under her breath.

Wisthera's round belly made it more than obvious that she was the mother of Onyxbane's child. Onyxbane carefully helped her up to the edge of the moonwell so that she could address the crowd.

"She's a bit far along, don't you think so, Willy? Perhaps you're getting upset for no reason." Elec raised an eyebrow at his seething fiancée. Elec was very good at judging people in an instant, making them realize where they went wrong. But there was also spite in his voice. The scandal was finally getting to the patient paladin. Willypearl felt terrible for letting her old feelings for Onyxbane get the best of her in his presence. She apologized to her fiancée but Elec only grunted.

Wisthera patted her round belly before she spoke. "I've known Opalbane for most of her life. I got a little ahead of the ceremony for cutting you off Priestess Feathershine, before you could invite people to give the couple a blessing… but I wanted to be the first to say congratulations."

"It's Opalbane getting married!" Willypearl looked up at Elec, relieved. Elec glared back at her.

"For ten years, I conned Opalbane out of gold, true friendship, potions, you name it. Yes, I did deliver the Archmage's ring to her, but I demanded payment for too many years after. I told myself that I was giving her peace of mind in exchange, and that sort of thing was priceless so it was alright to scam her. But, Priestess Feathershine taught me I was wrong to do it. When I tricked Opalbane into wearing the Archmage's ring I set her down a dark path, that eventually led to Silithus and a lot of heartbreak for those who loved her. And now, by a lucky twist of fate, I am one of those people. I am so grateful that Priestess Feathershine took me along to save Opalbane… I don't know what I would have done if she didn't make it. For one thing, my baby might not ever know his father if Onyx and I couldn't reconcile. I would completely understand if he never wanted to speak to me or have anything to do with me again if I caused his sister to be lost forever. I thank Opalbane and her mother, and their whole family for teaching me about respect and the value of truth. I'm so glad that I'm going to be a part of the clan now."

Beside Wisthera, Priestess Feathershine obviously forced a smile. The Priestess' fists were balled up so tight at her sides, she looked like she might turn and knock Wisthera in the face at any moment.

"Oh, and for the groom." Wisthera's cocky con artist smile returned. Willypearl started to worry about where this was going. "I learned about Alessandre five months ago, around the time this baby was conceived." Priestess Feathershine turned on Wisthera then, but before she could flip out and strike the woman, Master Rogue Shadowstep expertly picked the majestic Priestess of Elune up by the waist and set her down very romantically from the stage. She blushed a deep purple as he wrapped a bold arm around her. Everyone in the crowd gasped and began mumbling that the rumors about the Master Rogue and the Priestess of Elune were true, but Wisthera cleared her throat for silence.

"As I was saying, Al is a pretty sexy guy, and anyone who sees him knows it. I wasn't one of the lucky women who got to experience him firsthand, but there are more than enough rumors to convince me that Opalbane is probably the luckiest woman on the face of Azeroth. Well…" she amended quickly, "Next to myself, because I adore my baby's daddy."

Priestess Feathershine groaned loudly at hearing such crude language used. As if the scandal of having a child out of wedlock wasn't bad enough.

"But, all in all, Al is a very lucky man to have Opalbane for a wife. I can't think of a better fit for an uptight shadowpriestess than a freak and lecher like him. I can't wait until they move to Ashenvale, near Onyxbane and me. I'm sure that it's going to be very entertaining to have those two as neighbors. Good luck to the happy couple!" Wisthera cheerfully waved to a hesitant crowd that half-clapped at her speech only to ease the disturbed silence that filled the temple.

Priestess Feathershine asked if anyone else would like to speak. Onyxbane ascended the moonwell. He looked very handsome in his three piece tuxedo. Ever a Human-lover at heart, he was the one Kaldorei so unusually dressed. He bowed uncomfortably, and said a brief 'congratulations to Al and my sister.'

Then silence. Opalbane was never the kind of person to have many friends, and it became clear that most of the people in the audience were there because the Temple of Elune was a public place and they'd been curious about the wedding. Elec exhaled a patient breath as he waited for Willypearl to work up the courage to go before all the Night Elves who'd turned her life into a confusing though profitable mess. No matter what, Opalbane was her friend and Willypearl certainly owed her an apology. Finally, Elec decided that he would bring his girlfriend to justice if she was too afraid to meet it herself. The paladin grabbed his fiancée's arm and dragged her to the moonwell.

"Willy!" Onyxbane startled when he saw his ex-girlfriend. Already comfortable in her self-made fortune and the rich family she was about to marry into, the awkward farm girl from Westfall had been transformed into a noble woman seemingly overnight. She wore a striking scarlet dress complete with a matching embroidered bodice, lace sleeves and gold fringed traveling cloak.

Alessandre stood nearby, holding his new wife's hand. "That's your friend, Moonlily?" he whispered to Opalbane. Opalbane looked shocked to see the Human woman too. The shadowpriestess wore a mooncloth robe similar to her mother's except that it had obviously been dyed black. It allowed the woman to be darkly beautiful the way she was, as a priestess of the shadow. Opalbane's feral markings around her eyes and over her cheeks matched the dress perfectly. A wreathe of large white roses and tiny black ribbons crowned the priestess' head and made the long simple braid she always wore look sweet and innocent, almost girlish save for the womanly dress. The dyed black mooncloth robe and wreathe caused Opalbane to look both alluring and incredibly dangerous. Alessandre was handsome in a black and gold festival suit. As he watched the recent Human celebrity ascend the makeshift dais, Alessandre kissed Opalbane's hand possessively. To Willypearl, it felt like a warning. It dared her to say the wrong thing, to continue acting like someone who was not his wife's friend.

Willypearl got the message loud and clear. Knight Elec watched his fiancee carefully as she worked up the courage to speak. Her best friend had been in a great deal of trouble, and she was only just now showing up at Opalbane's wedding by accident. And, this was also the worst possible time to observe that Wisthera had been exactly right about Opalbane's new husband. He was the sexiest male Night Elf she had ever seen. Seeing both the handsome Onyxbane and the gorgeous Alessandre standing mere inches from each other made Willypearl's old fetish flare up anew. Various new underwear designs flew through her head. However dignified the lingerie designer tried to appear, her knees went weak.

Willypearl cleared her throat nervously. "Um, well... maybe first I should–"

"The Pontier family is proud to extend its blessing on the friend of my betrothed." Elec interceded on Willypearl's behalf. He hugged his fiancée close with one arm, and raised the other over the crowd. Willypearl worried that his gesture felt cold. "Ten generations of loyal paladins are happy to extend a blessing on such noble people through me this day." Elec announced in his booming voice. Faint blue light rose up around Opalbane and Alessandre as he gestured. Elec opened his palm to the sky, beneath the statue of Elune and the magic of the Light filled him up. Then, he thrust out his hand and the ring of pulsating blue around Opalbane and Alessandre rose higher and higher, strengthening and almost singing with the harmony of powers Elec called down from the heavens to bless them. Finally, it coalesced over the heads of the couple sparkling in a shape of an opened book before fading from view.

Everyone gathered in the temple looked up at Elec, awestruck.

"If you don't mind," Elec glanced at Priestess Feathershine. She nodded eagerly for him to finish the service. "May all the kings of the Alliance look down upon you and bless you with their wisdom and strength. Now you make kiss the bride."

Alessandre turned to Opalbane and lovingly caressed the side of her face. Everyone waited for that fateful kiss, the sacred act that would seal the deal now and forever.

"Moonlily, I'm sorry." Alessandre paused. "I need to tell you—"

But Opalbane would not have any more delays. She reached up, wrapped her arms around Alessandre's neck and kissed him fiercely. She pulled him onto his knees and they knelt on the floor of the temple together, kissing and groping each other like teenagers until Onyxbane reached down and yanked Alessandre up by the arm and set him firmly on his feet.

"Sorry about that." Alessandre laughed, and Onyxbane's embarrassment faded when he saw his brother-in-law's jubilant face.

"I think I called the wrong person a freak." Wisthera mumbled as she passed the newly wed couple. She raised an eyebrow at Opalbane. "Oh! Can someone please get me some cake? Where is the reception again?" she then asked loudly and rubbed her belly.

The guests began to leave. Up on the moonwell, Willypearl hugged her Elec and thanked him for making peace with her old friends and saving the day.

"Every man is tempted by something, aren't they? No need to apologize to me about Onyxbane, love…" but Elec was grimacing the whole time he said it. "Or that Alessandre fellow just now... or your entire career choice." he frowned darkly. Willypearl didn't believe that her paladin boyfriend really felt in a forgiving mood, eventhough his training caused him to dole it out automatically. Her hesitation before Onyxbane and the others seemed to evoke the exact opposite reaction in Elec. "Where's my mace?" Elec suddenly said, coming out of his daze. He dry-washed his hands feverishly and sounded half-mad. "I think I need to talk to that prancing, homewrecking male elf…"


	28. My big fat Darnassian Reception!

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Twenty-Eight: My big fat Darnassian Reception!**

The wedding guests milled about the table where a simple sheet cake and wine had been laid out on the Warrior's Terrace. Alessandre wisely herded his wife to the far end of the terrace where she could not see the wine. People wandered imbetween the columns, chatting loudly and shaking hands with the bride and groom.

Priestess Featheshine and Shadowstep stood alone in a private corner, sipping wine.

"Oh, Shadowstep! Can you believe that girl of mine is finally married?"

Shadowstep didn't look as delighted, but he offered his girlfriend his handkerchief when it looked like she needed it.

"Yes, it was a very nice ceremony. Funny that the day had nothing to do with that weasel Wisthera, but yet she found a way to insert herself right into the thick of things." He grumbled.

"Oh, yes. I hate that infuriating woman rogue!" Feathershine dabbed at her eyes. "I can't believe she's trapped my son like that. How do we even know that child is Onyxbane's?"

"Hello, future mother-in-law." Wisthera and Onyxbane came up to Feathershine then. She smiled arrogantly, but Onyxbane shied away from showing his cheer outright.

"Wisthera." Shadowstep nodded curtly. Feathershine wouldn't respond to the greeting.

Wisthera stood imbetween Feathershine and Shadowstep, rubbing her belly. "I know what you're thinking. You believe this is some kind of scam I'm pulling to make your son marry me. Well, it isn't. You should be happy to know that your foster son Onyxbane is in perfect health. In fact, he is so virile that in our very first try—"

"We know how babies are made Wisthera. Please spare us the details." Shadowstep grunted.

Feathershine glared at Wisthera but wouldn't say anything.

"Mom, aren't you at least happy for us? I love Wisthera so much… and now I'm going to be a father! This is the best news of my life." Onyxbane hugged Wisthera. He couldn't help smiling at how proud he was.

Priestess Feathershine softened. "You just called me mom."

Onyxbane smiled shyly. "Yea… I know. The other part about this baby thing is that some day, our little boy or girl is going to call you grandma. Don't you want that?"

Feathershine smiled at both Onyxbane and Wisthera. She was already warming up to the idea.

"Excuse me," Shadowstep brusquely excused himself. All this pandering was beginning to make him sick.

Across the room, Alessandre shared a look with Wisthera. Then, he politely extracted himself from his wife's side and went to go talk to the Master Rogue.

"Hello there, stranger." Alessandre almost tripped over Myrielle on his way to the wine table where Shadowstep was.

"Myrielle! I don't remember inviting you." Alessandre frowned.

Myrielle smiled at him shyly. "I am the Master Rogue's date."

Alessandre cursed under his breath. Of course, Shadowstep and Priestess Feathershine insisted on keeping their romance a secret, though it was more than obvious at times that they were more than just good friends.

"Al, I _know_ he's not interested in me. I'm just doing him a favor."

An awkward silence passed between Alessandre and his ex-girlfriend.

"Look, I just wanted to say congratulations."

"Oh really?" Alessandre raised a midnight blue eyebrow at her.

Myrielle pouted with her round cherry lips. "I really am happy for you. At first, I was furious to hear that you were faking a Wreathe Day with Opalbane. I thought you were lying to her the same way you lied to me, to get my job with Shadowstep, or worse. But I can see that you really do care for her."

There was something false about Myrielle's tone, but Alessandre decided that maybe it was just hard for her to be nice to him after all the bad history they had together. Alessandre was about to thank Myrielle when she added, "You know, I was here in Darnassus taking training lessons with Opalbane when she was a kid. We are about the same age, you know. We weren't exactly friends, no one was really Opalbane's friend, but we shared a lot of special moments." Myrielle swirled her wineglass in idle circles as she relished the bad memories she was about to conjure for Alessandre. "Like, the time she stole my dress for the Spring Ball and slashed holes in it, or the time she set Remi Lightstrider's hair on fire. Or, perhaps the time she stood on the edge of Teldrassil, right on one of the outer boughs and screamed death poetry at us and said she was going to jump..." she watched Alessandre's eyes get wide.

"Oops, I'm sorry. I thought you knew the woman you just married." she smiled wickedly.

"I know her well enough, Myra."

"Oh, sure, because a week is plenty of time to meet a woman and fall madly in love with her. What are you after this time, Mirothalas? Money? A way to blackmail Priestess Feathershine or get in good with Tyrande? Maybe you want your old spot in the Cenarion Enclave back and you're hoping to get at Shadowstep and his secret druid contacts somehow. I see you're walking in his direction."

The surprised look on Alessandre's face turned to angry intolerance. "You! You were the one... you set me up!"

Myrielle pressed a finger to her lips. "Hush my pet, lest someone overhear our little secret. Oh, Mirothalas, did you really think me that stupid? I made all the druids in Darnassus gather in the Trade District for a reason. I have a list–hard evidence–that there was only one druid running around and killing people in Stormwind on that night. And with all the druids in the Alliance accounted for, I know you are the only one who could have done it. I don't trust you. I did once but... never again. I don't know how you aren't rotting in a prison cell or six feet under the earth right now, but you're not going to hurt Shadowstep or anyone else he cares about."

"I'm not going to hurt Priestess Feathershine. I really do love her foster daughter! You think you know me so well, but you don't." Alessandre growled at her.

"Shadowstep is going to make me Master Rogue one day, and when he does, I will own you. I don't care what Feathershine said at your trial. Eventually, I am going to get you back for everything you've ever done to us women."

Alessandre laughed mockingly. "You know, it's a good thing that Wisthera and I are friends now." Myrielle looked confused. He continued, "If two of us are running against you for Master Rogue, that is one less opportunity you have to take power and ruin the Kaldorei Rogue Network with your parroting Shadowstep."

Myrielle grabbed Alessandre's arm and demanded he tell her what was going on, but he pushed away from her. "Goodbye, Myrielle. And don't dare bother me or anyone in my family again."

Alessandre made his way to the Master Rogue.

"What do you want?" Shadowstep was refilling his goblet of wine.

"You could be a bit nicer to me Shadowstep. I know that my mission is threatening to run late at any moment, but I _did_ just get married to the woman of my dreams. And… you happen to know how important this is to me."

"I'm not your friend, Alessandre." Shadowstep coldly announced. "I don't see why you even invited me to your wedding. I have a lot of work to do."

"Perhaps I was being polite by giving you a chance to ogle your girlfriend in public for a few hours." Alessandre smirked.

Shadowstep slammed his wine back down on the table. "That is a secret, Mirothalas. One that I would not have spread around, unless you want me to be just as careful with your dirty laundry." Shadowstep did not look at Alessandre, but looked over at the man's brand new wife across the room to make his point instead.

Alessandre lowered his voice. "Fine. That's fair enough. I'll just get to what I want to say so that you can go back to being a bitter old man." Shadowstep got the insult. Alessandre was one thousand and nineteen years old and he was calling _him_ old and bitter. "That woman you are so disgusted with, that rogue Wisthera, deserves a lot more respect than you're giving her."

"I'm surprised to hear you say that, Mirothalas—"

"I mean it. She is my friend now, and a mother. I won't stand for you treating her so badly."

Shadowstep was about to just leave Alessandre standing there, when the tall rogue leaned down and whispered everything in his employer's ear.

"She did not! There is no way Wisthera manipulated me." Shadowstep objected to the news.

Alessandre smiled wickedly. "She did that and more. Are you so vengeful that you won't even acknowledge that you have a criminal genius in your midst, a natural mastermind? That kind of skill should be tapped right away, and that woman trained. Though, I don't doubt she could easily fill your shoes without even really trying. She almost did, Shadowstep."

The Master Rogue scratched his sharp jaw idly as he thought about all the implications. His eyes went wide. "Now I have three candidates for my position. Is that what you intended, to make the competition even more stiff for Myrielle as well as yourself?"

Alessandre frowned and Shadowstep and began walking away. "You know, some of us have warm, beating hearts in our bodies. Wisthera is my family now, or at least she will be soon. It is the least I could do for her."

Onyxbane got bored thinking up baby names with his foster mother and girlfriend so he sneaked away at the first available moment. He and Alessandre crossed paths as they made their way to opposite ends of the Warrior's Terrace.

"I like the place you chose to have your reception, buddy." Onyxbane clapped Alessandre on the back and the rogue smiled back before moving on.

"So if it isn't the warrior Onyxbane. The man who singlehandedly launched my fiancee's tailoring career."

Onyxbane cringed at the deep ringing voice of Knight Elec Pontier. He eyed the blazing war mace called the Hand of Ragnaros slung over Elec's shoulder. Onyxbane swallowed. "Um… that might be me, yes?"

"You know what was a lot of fun for me, warrior?" Elec frowned. "Waiting months for my kindhearted fiancée to come back from helping her 'friends' in Silithus only for her to tell me that she had an affair with a good for nothing Night Elf named Onyxbane!"

Onyxbane hopped back a step. He suddenly wished that he had the Reaper. "Look, I didn't mean to—"

"You know what was even better than arguing with her about it for weeks and weeks during the holidays over Winter's Veil? Explaining the situation to my noble family of paladins!"

Onyxbane tried to shrug it all off, but Elec wouldn't let him. Red power dazzled at Elec's feet. It looked like a Seal of Justice…

"Look, I really should go."

Elec thrust out his arm, and cast the seal on the unworthy warrior. The judgment prevented Onyxbane from fleeing.

"Do you know what the best part about your little affair with my Willypearl is? That after competing with you in her heart for ten years in Westfall and barely winning, I had to let the fantasy live on so that the woman I love could fulfill her dreams to become a popular tailor. Now, isn't that something? All these women walking around buying supersized underthings with _your_ name in the tag that they bought at _my_ wife's store. Do you know what that does to a man like me, in my position?"

"Wisthera? Help!" Onyxbane lost his nerve and called out at last.

"Have you ever seen a Hand of Ragnaros before, Onyxbane?" Onyxbane shuddered, wringing his hands until he realized that this was beginning to sound familiar.

"Umm… no?"

"It's a gigantic mace about this big," Elec said, brandishing the hellish firey weapon, "That I am going to shove up something sensitive if you don't STAY AWAY FROM MY FIANCEE!"

So, you see, there is a little thing called karma. Even in Azeroth.

Meanwhile, Wisthera hadn't heard her boyfriend's desperate plea for help. She walked up to the lone Human mage Willypearl, rubbing her round belly.

"Long time, no see, homewrecker." Wisthera greeted Willypearl.

Willypearl had been staring, wide-eyed at the exchange between Elec and Onyxbane. She was afraid to go near them.

"Look honey, I'm not in the mood. Congratulations and all of that, but I really don't want to deal with you right now."

"Why not just come out and say it?"

"Say what?"

"You don't want to deal with me now, or ever. You hate me, don't you?"

Wisthera and Willypearl got into a ridiculous argument over whether the Human mage hated her or not for stealing the man of her dreams, and hurting her best friend Opalbane.

"Fine! I'll admit it! Of course I hate you, Wisthera. I hate you for everything you did to Onyxbane. You know, he's not going to be happy with you. How could you bring a baby into this when you know you can't help yourself? I saw you starin' at that Alessandre. You want him too, don't you? You are going to hurt his sister again, you know that, honey?"

Wisthera smirked. "Oh, you'd like to see that, wouldn't you? You want to see me fall flat on my face so that Onyxbane will leave me and you can have him again. Does Sir Elec Pontier know you have such a dirty mind? You can't help yourself. You are in love with my boyfriend, and I also saw you making eyes at Opalbane's husband."

"So were you! Wait… just who are we fighting over here? Onyx or Al?"

Wishtera's eyes went wide. "You can't have a nickname for him! Al and I have history, only I get to call him that."

"You and his _wife_." Willypearl clarified for Wisthera. "You can't have everything you want. This special friendship you somehow charmed Al into is going to fall right apart, and turn into something scandalous."

"Just like your special friendship with my Onyxbane back on the ship to Silithus?"

The two woman faced off, tense silence building up between them.

"I am going to ask Alessandre to be the spokesperson for my latest men's underwear line." Willypearl suddenly said.

Wisthera's mouth opened in shock. "You are not! He is _my_ brother-in-law. You can't go and befriend my brother-in-law."

"Not yet, he's not. You and Onyxbane aren't even married yet!"

"Neither are you!" Wisthera whined.

Alessandre passed by the two women then, on the way back to his wife.

"Oh Al!" Willypearl called to him and rushed after. She and Wisthera looked comical, fighting to catch up with the new groom and get his attention.

Alessandre finally made his way to Opalbane again. Without even saying hello, he swept her around in her amazing black dress and then dipped her low in his arms. Guests she had been chatting with cheered and clapped for the couple as Alessandre stole his dashing kiss. Opalbane blushed and hugged him back.

"Willypearl!" Opalbane greeted her old friend. She smiled awkwardly over Alessandre's shoulder.

Wisthera pinched Alessandre's butt and he yelped before turning around.

"Who did that?" he asked, embarrassed. Wisthera shook her head then nodded at Willypearl.

The disturbed crowd of people milling about Opalbane dissolved when the two agitated women arrived.

"I have a proposition to make you, Alessandre." Willypearl batted her eyelashes at Opalbane's husband. Wisthera nudged the Human mage in her side and they shared angry looks.

Across the open air terrace, Onyxbane's Seal of Justice wore off. When he was free to move, he said, "Hey, what are our girlfriends doing over near Alessandre?"

Elec panicked. "Damn that handsome male Elf!" he and Onyxbane rushed over to stop whatever it was.

Meanwhile, Alessandre listened to Willypearl's strange offer to make him an underwear model. "So, you see, there is already a buzz about you among my female market. Would you believe there's some Gnome in Ironforge trying to start up a copy-cat store called Vicky's Secret? The nerve! She's drawing in the customers though because she brags that she has a super large male Draenei underwear size. I can't just rip off her idea, you see. But, if I just had a few moments to measure you and then you made a guest appearance at some of my stores in Stormwind, and then just explain how you fit into my Onyxbane story, I'm sure that they would fly off the shelves."

"Just like everyone who buys a pair of that silly red underwear named for my Onyxbane thinks you had a private measuring session with him? I don't think so." Wisthera waggled a finger at Willypearl.

Alessandre blushed. "Ladies, really… I don't think it's the best time to pour money into Stormwind right now, with the riot and all—" Alessandre tried to get out of it, thinking quickly.

Elec and Onyxbane arrived. "YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY GIRLFRIEND!" they both shouted at Alessandre together, and seized their women. Except, Onyxbane got a hold of Willypearl, and Elec had his arms around the pregnant Wisthera before the men realized the mistake they'd made.

Alessandre couldn't help laughing at them. Elec and Onyxbane panicked when they saw the mix up and almost pushed the ladies into each other in the effort to shuffle girlfriends to the right side. Willypearl and Wisthera swore and swatted at each other like cats tossed into a sealed burlap bag.

Opalbane hid her face in Alessandre's shoulder.

"Oh now look… you've made my wife upset." He frowned playfully, and rubbed Opalbane's shoulder. "Look everyone, I think I can settle this once and for all." He reached down and unfastened the yellow moonlily pin from the low neckline of Opalbane's dress. Then, he carefully fixed it to the high collar of his black festival suit.

"You see this?" he raised his chin so that all the jealous men and women could see it. "This means I am—once and for all—taken. I belong only to the lovely priestess Opalbane." Opalbane looked up from Alessandre's shoulder. She looked oddly relieved. "Any more taking advantage of me from here on out will have to go through her first, alright?"

"Are you telling us that we have to ask Opalbane permission if we… you know, just want to talk to you?" Wisthera carefully asked.

Alessandre nodded.

"Even if it's about… um… business?" Willypearl tactfully inquired. Elec looked at his fiancee warily.

Alessandre let Opalbane lay her had back on his shoulder. "Yes, Willypearl. And may I say that I am glad to see you came to Opalbane's rescue, even if at the final hour. She wanted to invite you, but there just wasn't time. No offense, Knight Elec, but I told my wife that if Willypearl didn't have the decency to go against your family and visit Opal in Stormwind, or at least come see if she was alright, then she wasn't really a good friend."

Elec took a calming breath. "You would be right about that, Alessandre. My apologies." He bowed. "You know, the whole manor is in an uproar back home because we left so abruptly. But, in the end, I was willing to put off my own wedding for a bit longer if Willypearl needed to see her friend."

"I'm sorry too, honey. All that fame and fortune got to my head. I was puttin' the wrong things first." Willypearl reached out and squeezed Opalbane's hand. Alessandre released his wife for a moment so that the two good friends could embrace and make up at last.

"And," Alessandre continued, eyeing Wisthera. "I think I should go ahead and explain why Wisthera and I have become close all of a sudden. It is _not_ because I am her baby's father." Alessandre was sure to look Onyxbane in the eye. "I never slept with your girlfriend."

"I know that." Onyxbane tried to shrug it off, but he still sounded agitated.

"I didn't sleep with yours either, so that we're crystal clear." Alessandre raised a dark blue eyebrow at Elec who started to look worried all of a sudden.

"Willypearl, it seems that you and my future sister-in-law Wisthera are going to have to get along which, believe me, I can understand seems like a monumental task. But, it may help to know that Wisthera is responsible for bringing your friend Opalbane and I together. I am grateful to her for it."

Willypearl was taken aback by the news. "Your last con… I knew it! I knew you had something to do with this!"

Wisthera smiled, smug. "And once again, I come out cleaner than a whistle. Everyone here has more than enough reason to hate me, but you won't. You can't. I'm that good."

Willypearl hated Wisthera for saying it, but she knew it was true. Somehow, the most gorgeous man in Azeroth now belonged to an ex-convict, ex-cultist, shadowpriestess, and recovering alcoholic named Opalbane. It was a con to end all cons… Willypearl's jealousy was replaced by another warm feeling: gratitude. Her good friend Opalbane was finally getting the kind of love she deserved.

"Now, if you'll excuse me." Alessandre bowed elegantly, "I am eager to bed the woman I just risked my neck and my reputation as a notorious lecher for." He smiled slyly. "I think I deserve a night with her at least before I go back to Stormwind and sacrifice myself again."

Opalbane waved goodbye to her guests as Alessandre lead her away. They didn't have very far to go. A treehouse apartment waited for them just beneath the Warrior's Terrace. This one had four walls and only one tiny window, but Alessandre kept the curtains drawn. This night, he kept between his wife and himself. And he was pleased to see how satisfying being a one-woman man truly was.


	29. Goodbye, Alessandre

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Twenty-Nine: Goodbye, Alessandre**

"Please don't go." Opalbane begged Alessandre.

Their night together had been amazing and it was a true trial getting out of the bed at last. Alessandre stood naked in a sliver of golden sunbeam. It crossed his shoulder, cut his defined chest in two and finally settled on the gruesome old scar that ran the length of his left leg. But, from where she lay in the bed, Opalbane didn't see this. She saw the perfect muscles in her husband's back, the firm buttocks, the excellent thigh and calf muscles. A flood of blue hair, the color of the dark heart of the ocean covered his shoulders and neck. Alessandre's entire body was reminiscent of an exotic angry marble, burnt dark by some ancient fire, or perhaps the wrathful elements over the centuries. It was hard to look at the man she loved and not know the truth: Alessandre was far more than who he claimed to be. But, that he appeared dangerous was not necessarily bad. A sword could be brandished before an enemy or sheathed, for example.

Alessandre's long ears twitched slightly as he listened to his wife's breathing, the only sound in the room.

"Opalbane," he said, his back to her, "I know that you are reading my mind. I know that you're worried about what I've been thinking; that the wedding was too rushed, too desperate."

Opalbane bowed her head. She looked sheepishly at her fingers that played with the white bedsheets.

After a time, Alessandre spoke again. "I did not marry you yesterday because I thought I would go back to Stormwind and die, that last night would be our only chance to be happy together as husband and wife."

"Then, why did you hurry things? I didn't dare question it before; I love you so much that I just wanted to be your wife, even if it was because you thought you were going to die in a few days."

Alessandre turned to her. His beauty was impossible to ignore. He made no effort to cover himself, his large manhood was as natural an asset to his good looks as his luxurious hair or lean muscle. And he was Opalbane's husband now. His body was hers. The bright sunlight at his back warmed the edges of his frame, as if the sun was coming up behind him and he obscured the star.

"Moonlily… you deserve better than that. I hope you did not think you were settling with me." Alessandre looked like he wanted to say more, but then he didn't. He came to the bed instead.

Opalbane moved over for him, but he crawled around behind her. He asked her to lean against him. This time, however, they weren't running from Stormwind on the back of a peculiar silver war mount. Evenso, Opalbane sensed Alessandre wanted to save her life in the same way. Opalbane was so comfortable against her husband, she was tempted to sleep in after their energetic night together. But, this was not the time for sleeping, or for making love. It was time for Alessandre to leave and finish his mission for Shadowstep. He had to go save her life once and for all.

"I married you so fast because I did not want to wait to be your husband." Alessandre's hands roved up Opalbane's pale shoulders. He began to massage them. "I married you because I wanted to start living right away. I know that my going alone to Stormwind seems bleak, but it is the only way I can secure that new life for us." Alessandre trailed off with his important words and began to kiss his wife's neck. His whole body responded to the heat growing between them. Opalbane inhaled deeply.

"You know… there is a second boat leaving for Menethil Harbor this evening." Opalbane mentioned.

"Shadowstep will be angry. I was meant to leave on the one this morning and I'm already late… he's waiting to see me off you know."

Opalbane turned around and kissed her new husband passionately. Then she moved out of Alessandre's lap and pulled him down on top of her.

"Let's make him livid then. Let's make him furious, Al." she dared him.

Alessandre smiled, and a deep throbbing purr escaped his throat. Before long, he was enjoying himself too much to care whether or not Opalbane noticed.

_Later that evening in Darnassus…_

Alessandre saw how lonely Opalbane looked sitting on her humble spotted Nightsaber mount and a part of him melted.

"Moonlily, come here and ride with me. You look like you need a hug."

Wordlessly, Opalbane dismounted and handed the reigns of her mount back to the stable master. She reached up a hand and Alessandre helped her into Starshatter's saddle in front of him.

"Is he better than the way we left him on the ship?" Opalbane fretted.

Alessandre smiled proudly. "Over the years, Starshatter has become soulbound to me. He can take what I can."

And the enormous cat did look fully recovered. As they rode through Darnassus, Alessandre kept making whispering noises at the cat to keep Starshatter calm. The silver war mount took wide, eager strides, as if he knew there was a battle coming and he wanted to leap into action at any moment.

They met Shadowstep at the base of Teldrassil, on the docks near Ru'theran Village. The man's jaw was set tight, and his ivy ponytail seemed swept back more strictly than ever before, if possible. When Starshatter approached, he folded his hands behind his back.

"Why did you bring her?" Shadowstep fairly snarled.

Opalbane felt Alessandre tense. Did she hear him growling just now?

"Opalbane is my wife. She goes where I go now."

"I suppose you are taking her into the heart of Stormwind then, riots and all?" Shadowstep raised a superior eyebrow.

Alessandre urged Starshatter along, right past the grimacing Master Rogue. "I have a place where she'll be safe. Safer than Darnassus even."

"Safer than being surrounded by countless trained druids, Priestesses of Elune, Sentinels, _and_ her mother?"

Alessandre brought Starshatter to a halt. "Master Rogue, I am only going to explain this to you once. First of all, Opalbane is an accomplished shadowpriestess, a grown woman and my wife. You will not talk about her as if she were still an orphan from Felwood with no future or hope. Secondly, contract or no, Opalbane's safety is my sole responsibility, and I'm not arguing with anyone about how to care for my wife. Don't you dare question me again." Alessandre threatened.

"He's not telling you or anyone else where he is going to hide me in Ashenvale." Opalbane read both of the men's minds at once and answered their questions quickly. Effortlessly, she'd put weight behind Alessandre's description of his capable wife. "The boat to Darkshore is here, Al. Let's be off."

Alessandre did not even say goodbye to Master Rogue Shadowstep. Shadowstep had already started back up the path to Teldrassil. Clearly, the cold man had not expected one.

At the town of Auberdine in Darkshore, Alessandre and Opalbane delayed on the docks before the ship to Menethil as long as they dared. Opalbane would not let go of him.

"I still think you might not come back alive. I feel sure that I'm going to lose you." She cried.

Alessandre turned and kissed the palms of her hands that caressed either side of his face.

"No, Moonlily. Don't think that. I am going to live. I am going to come back to you."

"Please… let's just run away. I did it before, when I went to Silithus. I know how to do it again. And I don't drink anymore, so we won't have to leave any evidence as a trail with the innkeepers—"

"No, Opalbane. I must go. Think of your family."

"Damn them!" Opalbane shook Alessandre by the shoulders. "I don't care about anyone but you… please don't leave me." She sniffled and cried for a moment, then said, "Do you have any idea what you mean to me? I worship you, I… you are the center of my world now. I thought I'd never have to tell you this, but if you don't come back, I'll be like a cultist again. I had to substitute Zar'teaus with something…" Opalbane began to panic, "Alessandre, you are all I have. I couldn't help it. It was the only way I could heal my heart."

Alessandre hugged Opalbane tight against him. The ship began to leave. "You mean the very same to me. That is why I must go." Then, he parted from her. He ran for the ship and climbed aboard at the last moment. "Remember what I told you. Go to the place I said…" his voice trailed off as the dark seawater put more and more distance between the ship and the docks. A fog came and shrouded what view of Alessandre Opalbane had left.

But the shadowpriestess stood alone for a long time on the docks. With her powers, she reached across the water, across space and time to touch her husband's mind for as long as possible. In her mind's eye, she saw Alessandre smiling. It was mischievous, playful…

Blaring images of she and the rogue contorted naked in impossible positions… loud moaning and screams of pleasure… in her bed at the Cathedral of Light, up against the wall at the tavern where Benactus re-captured her, in the Deeprun Tram, on the boat to Darnassus, on a Gryphon, with Opalbane facing him as they rode Starshatter through the Wetlands, in a dark office—a rich mocking voice told her that it was Master Rogue Shadowstep's desk… in the moonwell at the Temple of Elune surrounded by the scented purple mana-burn candles… and the last was a beautiful sunlit room with birds singing and dark green trees all around.

_Go there, _Alessandre told her mentally. _Let Starshatter guide you to that place in the foothills and take my fantasies to warm you. They are a promise that I will return…Do you see how I always dreamed of you, even before we married? I will live to do every single one of those things to you, my wife and love…_

He said more, but the distance became too great and Alessandre's rich inner voice faded from Opalbane's mind. She cried.

As planned, Onyxbane and Wisthera met Opalbane inside of Auberdine.

"Wow! That's some epic mount. How come I've never seen one like that before?"

Opalbane had banished all emotion from her face. Only the steely guise of a shadowpriestess remained. She told herself that she would not be afraid of the darkness, now that the sun in her sky had departed.

"This is Starshatter, Alessandre's mount." Opalbane reached down and scratched behind the great cat's ears. "Al wanted to take me himself but, since he was running late…" she did not want to say the rest, that her husband had gone. Starshatter rolled his great shoulders and stretched.

"Why did he give it to you? Doesn't Al need a mount himself?" Wisthera worried.

"Al and I already talked about this. I will need Starshatter more." She urged Starshatter onward. Her brother Onyxbane and his girlfriend Wisthera fell in line behind her. They made their way down the road through Darkshore and a few hours later night fell and the soft paw steps of their mounts crunched fresh earth instead of old paved road. The violet majesty of Ashenvale surrounded them. Halfway to Astranaar, Starshatter abruptly turned off the road.

"Sis! Where are you going?"

"To a safe place. Alessandre told me what to do."

"But you can't go alone… why not just stay with us?" Onyxbane began to race after her.

Starshatter climbed into the foothills in the distance and shadowmelded. Then, with a final wave, Opalbane did the same.

Wisthera caught up with the anxious Onyxbane. "I don't understand!" he spoke rapidly. "Why can't she come with us? What did Alessandre tell her? What place could possibly be safer than with her own flesh and blood?"

Wisthera cocked her head to the side, thinking. "Alessandre is her flesh and blood now." then, she paused, "Onyxbane, I am going to share a little secret with you." She waited patiently for Onyxbane to stop calling out to his disappeared sister. Finally, he turned to the mother of his child. She said, "Alessandre is an incredibly dangerous person. I have no evidence, but after the wedding it became obvious to me. I just know… he's not the type to take threats to himself or to the people he loves idly."

"What's that supposed to mean, Sara?" Onyxbane was frantic.

Wisthera went on in her strange calm and calculating tone, the voice a mastermind used when they suspected they knew everything but didn't dare let the startling truth on to anyone. "It means that whatever he plans to do in Stormwind will certainly cause considerable fallout. He is not just hiding Opalbane from us to protect her, oh no. He is hiding Opalbane to protect us as well. He doesn't want anyone to know where she is. Whatever the details of his mission, he's about to put himself at great risk to end every possible threat against your sister."

"So you're saying… he might die? Will people come after Opalbane if he can't finish?"

Wisthera eyed Onyxbane critically. "Why would you think that? No, there will be carnage, terrible carnage. But your brother-in-law, the assassin, is going to cause it." She turned her mount around, and reluctantly, Onyxbane followed. "That is the only reason to hide someone you love so well, because you know for a fact that people are about to get very angry at you and retaliate."

Onyxbane thought for a moment, then asked, "Wisthera, how do we know that Alessandre isn't, in fact, a murderer? We weren't there for his trial, you know."

Wisthera laughed arrogantly. "I'd already considered that. You know, Onyxbane, in his line of work it doesn't truly matter. You're not really going to complain about that now though, are you? The wedding is done, and your sister is about to be better off for it."

_That same night, on the ship to Menethil Harbor…_

Alessandre leaned against the wall of the dark cabin with the other passengers on the ship. He gave into the murderous thoughts, let them fill his mind now that the one person who mattered to him was gone and couldn't sense them.

_Benactus dies, the cutthroats die, Faltheriel dies… twice. _Alessandre roved his thumb up and down the blade of his rapier. He cut himself, but didn't care. He needed to see the blood, smell it. There was going to be so much… he wanted to be ready for it, the last hunt.


	30. A death demon comes for Benactus

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Thirty: A death demon comes for Benactus**

_In the end, He will be slain by a demon with many heads. The exact number is unclear, but there will be one head for every misdeed that must be righted, and each head will also stand for every land and place that was betrayed by Him. The man who disregards his mind, body, soul, and family for the dark powers only invites the demon in. It—named for no petty fear but the very name of fear itself—will come into that last place and gorge itself on His injustice if He does not change his ways. _

_Again, listen to what I say! If He does not repent, the demon with many heads and named of fear will destroy Azeroth in every possible way. _

Priest Benactus sat staring at his open book of Draenei prophecy. He wasn't reading, just staring. The black words that described the coming of a demon with many heads hovered over the white page, a constant vestige of his consciousness. How many times had he read that passage in the last month? The remainder of the page was filled with a detailed interpretation of Velen's most mysterious prophecy. For generations, Draenei scholars argued over whom 'He' was… the author of this book was sure 'He' referred to Azeroth itself, the place where the last battle with the Burning Legion was most likely to occur. If one took it that way, the demon was just a symbol for all the evil forces of the Burning Legion and the warnings were meant for people of all races to take seriously. Moral corruption bred weakness, everyone knew that. However, Benactus had taken the passage very personally after Opalbane was stolen from him a month ago. Each day Benactus felt more sure that the prophecy was talking about him. And the demon, with a head for every place he'd done wrong, and every misdeed he'd done in those places, could be no one other than the man who'd singlehandedly ruined Benactus' life in every conceivable way: the rogue Alessandre.

"He married her. _Married _Opalbane…" Benactus mumbled to himself over and over.

How had Alessandre learned the secret stipulations to high priesthood within the Twilight's Hammer Cult? And, as if that weren't enough, Alessandre found a way to extricate Opalbane from the cult permanently, by allowing the ex-cultist to fixate worship on him as her husband.

"Brilliant!" Benactus mumbled to himself, eyes wild. "But how did he even know it would work… how could he be that powerful?"

Locked up in his office for the last few days without any food or water, and hardly any human contact before he'd barricaded himself against the inevitable Stormwind Guard, Benactus considered the possibility that he'd simply gone mad.

Priest Benactus gently pushed the holy book aside and drew the parchment he was working on nearer. Beyond the furniture he'd piled over his bolted door, guards were pounding on the wood, and shouted to be granted entry.

"You are under arrest, for crimes against the Cathedral of Light and Darnassus. And, we know you are a cultist, Benactus! Give yourself up."

He'd made the decision to meet the nameless demon two days ago when it became clear that his life was falling apart. The cultists were furious and rejected him for hiding Opalbane from Zar'teaus. They'd threatened his life. The Cathedral of Light got suspicious when an official from Darnassus—Alessandre—felt the need to kidnap Priestess Opalbane to safety. Today, their investigation into Benactus' secret doings finally revealed how he'd corrupted and turned many brilliant students of the Light into shadowpriests, or worse, into cultists. Benactus only recently heard whispers that Alessandre was an assassin with the Kaldorei Rogue Network. And the people who provided him with such information were disappearing fast… Stormwind Guard found bodies of key individuals in seats of power all over Stormwind next to documentation that proved they were Twilight Cultists. It was like his own family was being taken out, one by one. Finally, Benactus' actual family in Westfall had found out about his dark life and turned against him. Everything was falling apart because of Alessandre. Benactus felt like the prophecy said, that he was being destroyed in every possible way. For all Benactus' careful planning for Opalbane over decades, just one man had unraveled everything. But how? How could one man be capable of doing so much harm?

_Follow the path traveled by few, the Naaru say._

_Or is it the Draenei who worship them?_

_Even the prophet Velen was once a demon thousands of years ago, I hear._

_And what of men?_

Benactus didn't consider himself a poet, but sometimes, in the worst of times, he needed to write and organize his thoughts, to keep from losing his mind.

_A monster named Alessandre, with three heads._

_One in Westfall where I guessed his name comes from, one in Darnassus._

_The third in my daughter's room in Stormwind._

_How can that be? How can he know all, see all? _

_And he is coming for me now, a fourth head for me._

_Just for me, lucky death set aside for the old man at last._

The old shadowpriest didn't like his second poem as much. His inspiration was failing him, the will to finally face the man who singlehandedly ruined his life fading. Benactus sensed that he was the last one of the cultists in Stormwind to die. He'd considered just letting the Stormwind Guard take him. What did they do to cultists in the Stockades? Benactus did not want to know. Even the cult had made a threat on his life, turned against him because of Alessandre. Benactus now saw himself as a twisted, aged, unholy man with no clear convictions. He'd forsaken the Light and clung to the shadow and Old Gods. Even the Old Gods would have nothing to do with him for harboring the escaped High Priestess Opalbane.

_How ironic that only the shadow remains for me now at the end of time._

_I loved her once, worshipped her, _

_But from that very darkness comes a rogue, _

_A monster named Alessandre with four heads: one in Westfall, one in Darnassus, one in Stormwind, and now a fourth in the shadow, waiting for me._

_I want to look him in the face. I want to face death like a man._

"That doesn't rhyme!" Benactus finally became frustrated with himself. The pounding on his door outside got louder. Benactus took a deep breath and lay down his stylus. The sloppy ink pooled over the paper and seeped through, like a stain of rich dark blood. He got up and walked to the chair he'd placed in the center of the room, eyed the rope fastened to a beam above his head and the noose at the end of that.

"Alessandre is a monster with five heads. One in Westfall, one in Darnassus. One in Stormwind, a fourth in the shadow, waiting for me. And the fifth… the fifth is in my_ mind._" Benactus shuddered. The fear was consuming him now. He couldn't stay it with his writing any longer. Believing in strange prophecies had to be madness. No man would come now at the end of his life and comfort him in even that small way. Benactus would have to die without the answers, but at least he could go with dignity. He climbed up on the chair, and lowered the noose around his neck. Then, Benactus carefully brought his foot around to the open back of the chair and steadied it. He could kick it aside when he wanted to, when he was ready.

"You took her, my only daughter." Benactus wept. "I wanted to see you and ask you why… I can't wait any longer, you five-headed monster. I can't see you anymore in my head. Get out! Get out I say!" Benactus started shouting. And then, using the power of his voice as a way to distract himself from the horrible deed, Benactus kicked the chair below him aside. The noose tightened around his neck. The chair twisted under him gracefully, teetered on one leg, and should have crashed to the floor…

It should have crashed. It did not because someone caught it.

Alessandre materialized out of the shadow, swearing. He set the chair right, and grabbed Benactus by his knees. He held up the choking man and cut him free of the rope with his dagger.

"Damn you, Benactus! You can't die that way, you coward." Alessandre set Benactus in the chair and roughly forced him to sit upright when the old man's face turned red and he began to gag.

"You… saved me? Why?"

Alessandre narrowed his glowing yellow eyes at the shadowpriest. "Do you really think that I will let death come so easily to one of my victims? No, Benactus. I have plans for you first, then I will kill you."

"Haha!" Benactus cheered, delirious. It forced him to catch his breath again. "The five-headed monster has come for me at last, at the end of time! I have so much I wish to ask you, so much I need to tell you… you sonofabitch." Benactus couldn't help it. He gave into his recent obsession over the rogue.

Alessandre half glanced over his shoulder. The noise of the Stormwind Guard pounding down Benactus' door did not seem to bother the old shadowpriest but it made the rogue nervous.

"First, how did you get in here? And before, when you learned about Faltheriel… how did you spy on us? Can you walk through walls, you demon monster?"

Alessandre looked at Benactus sideways. Little did Benactus know that this was the look one madman was giving another. The only difference was, Alessandre's form of insanity had been sanctioned by Darnassus. Alessandre drew his weapons and glanced from Benactus to the door. He seemed to make up his mind about something, then sheathed his sword and dagger. Alessandre leaned across the delirious shadowpriest and used the severed rope to tie Benactus to the chair.

"I came down the chimney." Alessandre changed his tactic quickly once he realized he had more time. "What's this?" he pointed at the poems on Benactus' desk. "Are you a writing about me?" he tried to keep his voice calm.

Benactus' eyes widened. "The chimney! You are too big for that. You _are_ a specter, a demon of death… which are you? How many heads have you, rogue?"

Alessandre worked quickly, shuffling through papers on Benactus' desk to make sure there wasn't any more written about him. He attempted to shake the eerie death poetry dry then stuffed it into his pocket.

"Why did you take my Opalbane? When I lost her, my entire world fell apart."

"I love her." Alessandre said simply.

"It took me so long to figure it all out…" Benactus rambled on. He rocked himself back and forth in the chair while Alessandre stalked about the room positioning papers and furniture. "Look at me! Don't you care that I'm talking to you?" Benactus asked Alessandre.

Shouts to retrieve a battering ram came through the door. Alessandre flinched at that and changed his course of action. He began tearing books and papers off the shelves.

"I care. Tell me what it is you want to say, old man." Clearly, Alessandre wanted to keep Benactus busy for the time being.

"First was the chalk. Faltheriel gave it to me, gave it to all of us. He said that demonic runes were good for spying on people. But I didn't know that it would put me in a trance… refreshing the demonic rune under Opalbane's bed was the thing. It was a ritual I did in Faltheriel's name, though I didn't know it. The rune itself was unimportant though he tricked all of us into believing that we could use it to spy on people. Using the powerful fel magic made all of us more susceptible to his kind of suggestion. That is how he ascended our ranks so quickly, and got me to help him, with his powerful demon magic."

"Are you saying that Faltheriel was mind controlling you somehow?" Alessandre paused in the middle of ripping a book of scripture apart. He put the book back and read titles to himself before pulling a different book off the shelf. It was a book on the nature of fel energy.

"Yes, yes! You are smart, aren't you?" Benactus rubbed his sore neck and became more animated. "He works for the Burning Legion. Did you know that? No, I think you knew that, you knew everything. You aren't just a rogue are you, you must have a very dark entity trapped inside… but it was the chalk. When I came into the room on that day and saw you there when Opalbane disappeared… do you remember Alessandre? That is when the chalk broke and I snapped out of it. When the chalk broke I realized what he was doing to me, to all of us. But I was too terrified to act. There was nothing I could do alone, and I did not want to contact the others because then you would find them."

"I already know about the other fifty or so Twilight Cultists in Stormwind." Alessandre admitted. Now, he began to pitch certain books and scrolls across the room. He kicked in an old chair and tossed the splintered pieces about the floor. "Most of them are dead now. I had to get them first. The death of someone as important as yourself would sound a kind of alarm. Benactus, one of the last."

"What are you doing? Why are you leaving certain things ruined and others not?"

Alessandre finished and came to stand before Benactus. "Many people think that being an assassin is about the killing. It isn't. People who hire assassins are more concerned with how targets are eliminated. It's all about ending a threat, setting things right for the client, or even igniting chaos with the kind of evidence that is left behind at a murder scene. It all depends on how it is done, Benactus." Then, Alessandre seized the sides of Benactus' chair and dragged it over to his desk. He turned it slightly, as if Benactus had scooted out from behind the desk to greet someone.

Benactus finally became quiet. His cheeks were hollow. His black hair was more sparse than it had appeared before. However evil Alessandre knew the man had been to imprison and torment Opalbane, and turn many of Stormwind's capable priests into cultists, Benactus still looked like a defenseless old man.

"I thought you were just a scoundrel, going after Opalbane's honor." Benactus said in a small voice.

Alessandre took off his black leather gloves and stuffed them into his belt. "I thought you were just a kindly old man that my Opalbane loved like a father."

Benactus blinked. "Did she? Did she really love me the way that I loved her, my daughter?" for some reason, Benactus was desperate to know the answer to this.

Alessandre hesitated. "Yes."

Benactus smiled wickedly. "I understand. You see me for who I am, a man who protected and guided Opalbane when she was lost. You are afraid that I truly am like her father and that killing me will drive a wedge between you two."

Outside the door, the feminine murmur of an agitated crowd of priestesses swelled. The rhythmic clank of returning armored soldiers in file carried up the hallway.

Alessandre's jaw tightened. He stared at the ceiling, at the hastily severed noose and shook his head.

"I told her many times that you were no good for her, but she loves you like a father." Alessandre confessed. "If I…" Alessandre covered his mouth for a moment, struggling with the offer. "If you were to live, where would you go?"

Benactus laughed cruelly. "I would go get your wife and drag her back to Silithus."

Alessandre put his gloves back on. He'd heard enough.

"Do you really think that she is safe with you? Once a cultist, always a cultist. That is why I recruited her so carefully ten years ago. We plant that loyalty very deep, so that once the ceremony is completed it is done forever. Why would we give her our secrets, only to let her walk free? Maybe she loves you now, but it is only a substitute for Zar'teaus. If he were only to ask again—"

"Shut up old man!" Alessandre shouted over the crash of the battering ram against the wooden door behind him. The furniture Benactus had piled against it rattled.

"She only loves you because she has been able to convince herself that you are more dangerous than even Zar'teaus. What will she think when she finds out you are just a man, hmm? You're hurting her, by keeping her from what she truly wants. She wants to bow down before an orange stone in Silithus! She wants to lay under an old god and make the vows real! She wants to be a High Priestess, better than Tyrande in all her glory. Opalbane is ambitious. I know she will kill for it, she will burn everyone in her path who stands in her way, even you if you try to prevent that great destiny she feels she is owed! I know Opalbane!"

With a roar, Alessandre shifted into his nightsaber form. He growled low and angry, then shook his neat purple jowls at the shadowpriest.

Benactus truly lost it then. "Six heads! The monster has six heads! One in Westfall, the second in Darnassus. The third was in my daughter's room watching me in Stormwind, the fourth waited in the shadows that I loved. The fifth in my mind… and the sixth…" Benactus tossed his head back. He half screamed, half rejoiced. "The sixth is like the Draenei books. They have a record of all the demons on the Exodar, and there is one they say will come at the end of the world, with six heads. The prophecy is true! The sixth is the head of a MURDERER!" Benactus shouted angrily at Alessandre. He wasn't making any sense. "Now I finally know how you did it, you demon bastard!"

"I'm not a demon." Alessandre said growled carefully in his cat form. "You've gone crazy with all the pressure on you… but I'll give you this, you're on the right track about me at least. I am deeply disturbed… in fact, I'm insane."

"A murderer has married my daughter!" Benactus started yelling. "You were touching my things to frame me for the murders in Stormwind, and keep it from her. I won't let you! I am going to live… I choose to live now so that you can die. I won't let you lie to her and destroy her!" Benactus' shadowform began to flare up. It was the most powerful manifestation of shadowpower Alessandre had ever seen. It wafted up from the old man and filled the room like thick black smoke. It licked the wooden floor like fire as it traveled outward. It burned up along the walls. The bluish purple shadow transformed the old man and he began to speak in tongues the way Opalbane had. Alessandre could see in the dark. He watched the shadow armor singe, then burn through the meager rope lashed across Benactus' chest.

"You… will live to regret it… you will die knowing that you have sinned… I will make you pay, Alessandre…" the soulless echo was otherworldly. The fur on the back of Alessandre's neck stood on end.

The Night Elf rogue and druid stealthed. A moment later, he reappeared behind Benactus. His shimmering moonlit claws raked at the man, caused him to double over, incapacitated by the pain. Though Benactus could do nothing, the shadow armor still burned the purple nightsaber. It made the air thick and filled his nose. Alessandre felt his own life fading with every slash of his claws. Benactus straightened, and raised a hand, ready to cast one devastating spell. Alessandre saw and gave over to his instinct completely. He bared long white fangs and sank them into the old man's neck. It was simple and effective, the way nightsabers took lives in the wild, killed for the sake of survival.

Alessandre could taste Benactus' jugular vein, split wide open in his mouth. Normally the hot blood was salty-sweet, but the blood of this man was spoiled and sour, the flesh and the soul gone bad years ago when the man's conscience died.

"Velen was right…" he breathed at last. "You are the one, come to end Azeroth for me… I cared not to repent, and now I am destroyed in every way."

Benactus died, clutching at his throat. His face frozen in an eternal expression of mute agony, he fell out of the chair and rolled onto his side.

"Heave!" the blonde guard captain shouted to the soldiers outside the door. The anxious priestesses cried when they broke through into Benactus' office with a final thrust of the heavy metal battering ram. The men picked up swords and shields. They charged in shouting. When the dark smoky shades of the netherworld diffused they were able to make sense of the murder scene at last. Clearly, the druid murderer had come in and destroyed the place. Claw marks were everywhere, books on mind control and fel energy scattered on the floor. Characteristic bite marks pierced the old man's flesh and blood oozed into a pool under him.

"What's this?" the guard captain picked up a sealed note on the desk.

It was written in Benactus' hand.

_A confession by Priest Benactus of the Cathedral of Light_ it read.

"A druid, my puppet…That's the first line. What does that mean?" another Stormwind Guard asked from where he read over his captain's shoulder.

Their leader sighed. "I thought we ended this riot last week and that damn druid is on the loose again, this time killing Twilight Cultists." He griped.

"But, it looks like it wasn't the druid's fault." The guard observed as he read on. They took some time ushering the frightened priestesses away from the scene and gathering more evidence before moving on.

Alessandre sat on the roof outside near the chimney, listening. He shifted out of his catform and hugged his knees to his chest. Then, he bowed his head.

"Just one more… then I can go home to Opalbane. No one will ever know… this _is_ going to work." He consoled himself. But, where no one could see, Alessandre grimaced at what he'd done. When he was younger, about one thousand years ago, it felt good to skirt justice. Defecting from the Darnassian army and going to rescue Arianna had given him such a rush. And even years later, when he started the murders… but it was different now. Alessandre got the acute feeling that justice was more than getting caught and tried for one's crimes. It was knowing that the people you hurt were healed at last, and that the people who loved you could finally look on you with pride.

When he was done in Stormwind, Opalbane would be robbed of justice forever, because she could never look on him with pride, or feel healed by Alessandre's actions if she knew the real monster she'd married. But Opalbane would be safe and at least Alessandre would have her. He was willing to lie and kill to keep it that way. That was the other reason Alessandre had wanted to come back to Stormwind, to cover his tracks. Now, only one more person stood in the way of finally having the woman he loved.

_Faltheriel dies…_


	31. Villains always monologe before they die

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode 31: Villains always monologue before the death scene**

Faltheriel left off peering through the small gap he'd allowed in the heavy scarlet curtains when he heard Alessandre killing his men inside the house. A chill ran through the lean Blood Elf. He'd been watching for the Night Elf rogue, and told his thugs to secure every entrance to the house except for the front door. Alessandre had surprised them all. It also showed just how far gold could go to secure good help these days.

The terrifying screams and savage growling grew louder as it traveled deeper into the house in Cutthroat Alley. In time—and it surprised Faltheriel just how rapidly it traveled—the noise erupted into a louder cacophony upstairs. Finally, the sound of furniture breaking and windows smashing, the sound of swords and daggers being drawn and parried, then grating noisily against the floor when they were sent flying out of the hands of unskilled victims, ended just outside of Faltheriel's door.

Then, the door opened.

Alessandre stood there, breathing rapidly. His rapier was drawn in one hand, the dagger firm in the other. He held the door ajar with his shoulder as he leaned on it. A black mask covered his mouth and much of his face, leaving only Alessandre's eyes visible.

"Why not stealth in here, Mirothalas?" Faltheriel mused.

Alessandre narrowed his glowing yellow eyes the Blood Elf.

"I knew where you were standing. And… how do you know my name?" Alessandre asked.

Faltheriel pushed the red curtain aside, revealing an excellent view of the dirty narrow street that made up Cutthroat Alley. The sky was gray and cloudy. Soft rain tapped against the window.

"Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider is a gorgeous man. Did you know that?"

Alessandre wisely decided not to answer this question.

"The cleft in his chin could not be more perfect. He's got a scar under his eye, just there," Faltheriel gestured with his own finger, indicating an area under his right eye. "But they healed it while we were in Outland… Lord Illidan put powerful fel runes there. We were afraid it would hurt him, but it didn't. It kept him from going blind, you see. Our poor, dear prince… and King Anasterian… so sad what happened to my people."

Alessandre rolled his shoulders, and began to close in on Faltheriel. Faltheriel seemed not to notice. He kept talking. "I loved him." Faltheriel said. Alessandre paused.

"What the hell?"

"Yes, I was in love with Prince Sunstrider. I adored him. Never was there ever a Blood Elf more powerful… both a mage _and_ a warlock, did you know that? We call it a Blood-Mage. He was incredibly talented, and wise… _is _wise. The Prince is still living, I think. At least he was the last time I saw him."

"You were a member of the army Prince Sunstrider took to Outland with the Naga?"

Faltheriel nodded. "I would have followed Prince Kael' thas to the ends of Azeroth and beyond. In fact, I did. Into the maw of hell itself it seemed. However, ours was a love that was not meant to be. He rejected me."

Alessandre tried to stay serious in a time like this. Thankfully, his black rogue's mask concealed a good amount of his laughter.

Faltheriel seemed to become aware of Alessandre then. He folded his pale hands in his lap and turned to the handsome Night Elf. "I was furious with them In Shatthrath City they are called the Scryers, or some nonsense. I did not want to betray my prince. I escaped with some others who felt the same as I and went back to tell Kael'thas everything, but he shunned all of us. Right before I was to be killed for treason, was when I confessed my feelings… my own beloved monarch was so repulsed by me… I was happy to give myself to the Legion after that. I'd risked everything and just wanted to belong someplace in the end."

Alessandre raised the tip of his rapier to Faltheriel's throat. "Does this story have a point? I want to go home to my wife."

Faltheriel snarled. "Oh yes, I've heard about your marriage to _Opalbane_. The pretty shadowpriestess. I'm a shadowpriest too, you know. Why don't you like me?"

Alessandre lost focus. "Look… I know some male elves do but… not that there's anything wrong with that… I just… look, I don't swing that way." He finally said.

Faltheriel sighed. "I guessed as much."

Alessandre's brow bunched in angry frustration. "It's just not that, Faltheriel. It's you. You're… weird, and _gross._"

Ignoring the sharp point of the rapier, Faltheriel leaned back against the window and turned his gaze to the rainy world beyond. "That is the same thing my prince told me. For all his perfect features, and that brilliant mind, Prince Kael'thas has one flaw." Then, he paused for effect, "He's arrogant."

Alessandre sighed loudly and rolled his eyes.

"I'm arrogant, you're arrogant, all us elves are arrogant. That seems to be the way things are on Azeroth."

"Yes, my sweet little mana pot." One could see Faltheriel smiling in the reflection of the window. "But Kael' thas' arrogance has bound him to the wrong man in Outland. Lord Illidan is not brave enough to ally himself with the Legion outright. He will play games with us, savoring his so-called freedom forever until we force him into an official pact. And so, too, does Kael' thas follow in Lord Illidan's footsteps, sending the remainder of his Blood Elf forces to the Black Temple, and all over Outland hoping to gain enough control over the shards of that world to thwart the Legion when it finally comes to collect what is owed." Then, Faltheriel looked Alessandre dead in the eye. "The Burning Legion _will_ conquer Outland, and then we are coming to Azeroth. It's all but done."

"What does Opalbane have to do with all of this?" Alessandre hoped to at least steer this strange conversation in his direction.

Faltheriel's burning green left eye twitched, then he blurt out. "Damn her! Mirothalas, I'm not making this speech to you for my health. I've known all about you ever since that night in the tavern, on Love is in the Air day… I waited to tell you this because I care for you, and I don't want you to make the same mistake that Prince Kael'thas did."

"What do you mean? Missing the chance to kill you because your disturbing nature is about as alluring as watching a train wreck? Have you always been so weird?"

Faltheriel frowned. "You are a rogue and a druid, Mirothalas. I read your mind, and with all our close encounters, I figured it out. You and your," he inhaled sharply, "sexy mana… I can't take it anymore! Come back with me to Outland and I can show you what true power is really like. Don't make the same mistake Prince Sunstrider did, and frivol away your unique talents! They can put fel tattoos on your beautiful dark body, just like with Lord Illidan… maybe people here fear you, but in Outland, you will be treasured, respected. Kil'Jaeden will want to meet you, I'm sure."

Alessandre's jaw hung open in mute shock.

Faltheriel gently lifted his hand from his lap and motioned in the air. The blade of Alessandre's sword was pushed aside by some unseen magical force. The strange Blood Elf was certainly more than just a shadowpriest, he was using powers Alessandre had never seen before. No wonder he didn't take a sword pointed at his throat as a threat.

Faltheriel narrowed his long golden eyebrows and crooked his gloved finger over his mouth. He stifled a polite laugh. "And the best part is, of course… I can show you what no woman ever can. What it really means to be loved like a man."

Alessandre's face flushed. "No, I don't think so."

Faltheriel rose from where he had been sitting. The heavy scarlet curtain slipped free behind him and shuttered out what little sunlight that came from the window. Alessandre noted with cold dread that it also changed the mood in the room. "Opalbane is just a small piece in the greater puzzle. I was assigned to come here and retrieve her." He carefully walked around the numb Alessandre, over to his desk. It was a shabby little thing covered with neatly stacked books and papers. Faltheriel sat down at the edge of the desk, crossed his legs in his red robe and leaned forward.

"She's not like us, Mirothalas. I've looked into that woman's mind as well as your own. She is truly evil." His eyes went wide. "You and I, we just have a mean streak, a desire to be bad and dirty…" he paused, and smiled wickedly. Alessandre cringed. "Do you really think that the Burning Legion has recruited countless worlds and races like the Eredar into their ranks because they are disgusting and cruel? No… it is because we know how to have fun. We know what it is like to burn the sky and explode the earth, to twist creatures into something brilliantly devlish, and drink in that fel energy." Faltheriel's green eyes blazed as he recalled the magical stuff the Blood Elves had recently become addicted to. "It won't be a fun party without you. Help me go and get her, and then we'll off into the living rapture. There, in that endless stream of power, we can free ourselves and let loose all inhibitions at last. Haven't you ever wondered what you would be like if you just indulged? The self that wants to lie, cheat, and steal, that is the true self, as free and blameless as a happy child within the Legion."

Alessandre finally spoke. "You… want _me_ to go get Opalbane and betray her, and then… follow you to Outland, to the Burning Legion headquarters… give her to them and then—"

"We can take it slow from there, Mirothalas." He chuckled. "I hate to quote an old and quite bad pick up line, but I do believe you wish your girlfriend was hot like me."

"That's it!" Alessandre drew his weapons. "You are going to die, you… _weirdo_!"

Faltheriel uncrossed his legs. He stood up straight and let his hands rest heavy at his sides. His elaborately embroidered red robe rustled at the hem when he began to conjure his mysterious invisible power.

"Are you sure, sexy mana? Because if you reject me, I won't ever offer you an opportunity like this again. I know from experience that gorgeous men like you only play games and break a person's heart… I don't dare let it happen to me again."

"I am going to break your pencil neck!"

Faltheriel snarled menacingly. "Come closer then."

To be honest, Alessandre hesitated. He really did want to leave off killing Faltheriel a second time because he did not want to go anywhere near that very odd male elf. This time, however, Alessandre reminded himself that he had no choice.

Alessandre stealthed.

"Oh!" Faltheriel exclaimed and clapped his hands gleefully like a schoolgirl, "I love this game! Are you going to come at me from the front, or behind?"

Somewhere across the room, Alessandre groaned loudly. "Why didn't I train as a caster of some kind? Then, I could just kill you from over here, without touching you."

Faltheriel walked out into the middle of the room, eager for the attack. Unlike any normal person who was watching out for a rogue, he happily exposed himself on all fronts. "You forgot about hunters, Mirothalas. They do it with their pets… and big guns."

"For the love of—" Alessandre blurt out suddenly. He was creeping up on Faltheriel from behind and gave up on his ambush attack. Unexpectedly, Faltheriel was turning out to be his most challenging adversary yet. Still stealthed, he stalked away to hide his location.

Faltheriel was enjoying this immensely. "Oh, you don't know how adorable you are, Mirothalas. Though, I can see why you changed your name. Alessandre is so exotic, even for a Human name, don't you think? I've always hated my name, Kil'Jaeden was telling me that I could change it now that I work for the Legion. I was thinking something mysterious like Shane, or maybe something kinky like Master Sunbody, or Faltheriel the Fair… or if you play this game I know where you use the name of the first pet you ever owned and the first street you ever lived on, I'd be Flamey Falconwing Square, but that's so silly, isn't it? I had a pet dragonhawk when I was little which is okay, but a man can't be named after a _square—"_

"Dear goddess! Shut up!" Alessandre shouted suddenly and stabbed Faltheriel through the middle with his rapier. Faltheriel buckled and grasped his stomach. He pulled a ragged breath and vomited up blood… but it was as black as ink. Slowly, he looked up the length of the rapier blade and then craned his neck to look into Alessandre's face.

"Oh that was naughty, sexy mana." He smiled. "But that doesn't hurt very much. Why don't you try again, hmm?"

Alessandre tried to yank his rapier free, but Faltheriel grabbed his fingers on the hilt, and the terrified rogue wrenched his hands away. Alessandre relinquished his sword to the Blood Elf.

Faltheriel started laughing. He chuckled low and long, spitting spurts of black blood onto the floor. He turned around in circles, laughing like mad when he saw how the blade ran through him, pierced his flesh and then stuck out the other side. Then, Faltheriel deftly slid the rapier free.

"What are you doing with this anyway, sexy mana? It's hardly the nicest sword I've ever seen, and I've seen many _swords_ in my day." Faltheriel grinned at his bad pun.

Alessandre was beside himself. "A Human taught me—"

"Yes, yes, a rapier is the only sword you know how to use, since you were a druid a thousand years ago, blah blah blah. A sad story, I suppose, but it also makes a guy want to save you… or a certain shadowpriestess. You see, it's easy to fall in love with you Mirothalas." Faltheriel tossed the rapier aside. It clattered and rolled along on the wood floor.

Alessandre raised his lone dagger and pointed it at Faltheriel. His hand shook nervously. But he looked like a clumsy person, who didn't know how to use a dagger and just wanted to keep space between himself and his attacker.

"Are you saying you're in love with me now?" Alessandre sputtered.

Faltheriel walked over, ignoring Alessandre's dagger. Alessandre came to his senses at the last moment and slashed the dagger across Faltheriel's exposed neck with the sense of a good assassin, but the black blood poured out and healed the elf just as quickly. Faltheriel grimaced and yanked the dagger out of Alessandre's hand. Then, he examined the soiled blade and licked it, slowly.

"The blood of your enemies… very sweet." He tossed the dagger aside.

"Get away from me—" Alessandre made fists and began to back towards the door.

"You've never met someone like me before. I'm a new kind of opponent for you, aren't I? A Blood Elf, an agent of the Burning Legion and a man who is in love with you… you have no idea how to proceed. And look," Faltheriel swept his hand out over the room behind them, "I've already disarmed you. Just how do you think you are going to kill me now? With those handsome manly fists of yours? Do you really think that hitting me will do you any better—"

And then Faltheriel cut off his own tirade and pushed off Alessandre's black mask. He seized both sides of Alessandre's face. Then, he leaned up and kissed him fiercely.

Faltheriel tugged at Alessandre, relishing the kiss, then let the Night Elf rogue go. "I can't even think around you," Faltheriel half apologized, gasping. "Do you see what you do to me? I can't stand to be teased like this any longer, sexy mana. Let me drink you in, let me love you, right here—"

"Fatheriel?" Alessandre squinted one of his eyes, disturbed. His jaw tightened.

"Yes, my sweet—"

That was when in a flash of flying blue hair, Alessandre turned around and punched the Blood Elf hard, in his pretty face.

Faltheriel was knocked around in a circle because of the momentum and when he crash landed on the ground, he cried out and clutched his mouth.

"My teef! You knocked my teef out of my mouf!" he shook. Two perfect white teeth lay in Faltheriel's outstretched hand.

Alessandre rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, trying to feel like a man again. "My name is Alessandre! And I am about to kick your ass!" he shouted back, then picked Faltheriel up off the floor and hit him again. Faltheriel panicked and ran, presumably to hide under the little desk, but Alessandre shifted into his bear form and dragged Faltheriel back out into the open, kicking and screaming.

Faltheriel attempted to use a Mana Tap spell to drain Alessandre's mana, but whatever he got in exchange for the pretty explosion of arcane energy singed his thrust out palm.

Alessandre the bear roared and used the back of his big claw to sweep Faltheriel aside. Faltheriel was truly rattled and tried to break from Alessandre mauling him so he could cast a spell, but Alessandre backed up and charged him. The stunned Blood Elf cowered helplessly as Alessandre raked him with his claws and tore at him with his teeth. Faltheriel was able to get off one shadow word of pain before Alessandre finally put him out of his misery. With a final swipe, Alessandre slashed through the bloodied and once elegant red robes. The sound of bones in Faltheriel's ribcage breaking reached Alessandre's long furry ears. Faltheriel whimpered in pain and then his expression went blank. He fell the ground, groaned in agony, and reached up to touch Alessandre one last time. Then, Faltheriel coughed up a great deal of blood and closed his eyes.

Alessandre stood there for a long time panting in his bear form. He took one last look at the strange Faltheriel before leaving.

_A few moments later…_

Alessandre came back into Faltheriel's office. His black mask had been retrieved and he'd tucked his long hair inside and once again covered his face. What looked like a gold stationery box was tucked under his arm. He tried not to look at the corpse of Faltheriel that stared up at the ceiling. Alessandre gave the body a wide berth in the middle of the room, then finally came to the desk. Some of the papers had been scattered in his scuffle earlier. Alessandre eyed the desk for a few moments before deciding to nudge one stack of books onto the floor. Then, he stood and leaned over the desk to see how they fell. That seemed to satisfy him. Next, Alessandre placed the gold box on the desk, opened it, and pulled two inkwells and a stylus. He got the odd feeling that he was being watched. Alessandre stealthed momentarily and shifted into his cat form to smell for any other people in the room. Only Faltheriel's putrid smelling black blood came to him.

Alessandre changed back. He found some blank paper in one of Faltheriel's desk drawers and set it in front of him. He rifled through more of the drawers until he found some old correspondence of the elf's and carefully lay each sheet on the floor behind him. On hands and knees, Alessandre inspected each page with a monocle from the box. He practiced forging a few of Faltheriel's letters before seating himself before the desk again and taking Faltheriel's gaudy blue hawkstrider-feather stylus in hand. After a few moments of writing, Alessandre jerked up at the sound of hoofbeats in the alley outside. Shouts of Stormwind Guard carried through the dying rainfall. The bell at the Cathedral of Light tolled five-o'clock. _That's about how long I guessed they would take to come to Cutthroat Alley. _Alessandre thought. Quickly, Alessandre finished up, put his tools into a black bag he'd brought and placed the forged letter in the box. He put a tiny bronze lock on it, locked it, and then unlocked it again to see how easy it was. Satisfied, he fixed the lock back, and set it prominently at the center of the desk. Even Stormwind Guards wouldn't miss it.

A loud banging on the door downstairs carried up through the house. Alessandre tied the bag and slung it over his shoulder and made quickly for the door, then froze. The creepy feeling of being watched washed over him again. He couldn't just ignore it.

Alessandre stealthed and sneaked back up on the body of Faltheriel lying on the floor.

"Your eyes… were closed when I killed you." Alessandre said to the Blood Elf. The green pupils blazed anew and Faltheriel's hands flew up, trying to cast some final spell.

Alessandre flipped his shining dagger around and stabbed Faltheriel with it, through the heart.

Alessandre waited as long as he could while he waited for his wife's last enemy to die. He checked Faltheriel's pulse, tested to see if he was breathing, then kicked him hard in the side, where the broken ribs were. Nothing. Faltheriel was dead.

"Stormwind Guard! Toss your weapon on the floor, now!" The guards in silver plate poured into the room, brandishing swords and shields with the golden lion crest of Stormwind.

Not a soul greeted them. Just the battered corpse of a Blood Elf, still warm.

Stealthed, Alessandre watched from near the door.

"This one's just been slain, captain." A female guard announced. The blonde captain scratched his beard and wandered to the desk. "By the Light! It's a Blood Elf! Look at those green eyes!"

"What's in the box?" a third guard asked. He sighed, and lowered his shield.

Their captain approached the desk carefully, then picked up the golden stationery box.

Alessandre edged to the open doorway. He could hear his heart in his ears.

The guard captain was happy to find that the bronze lock was easily opened with a gentle nudge from his sword. He retrieved the letter inside and began to read.

"It's another confession letter, boys. This one knew the druid was coming to take revenge on him too. Seems this Faltheriel fellow and Priest Benactus were working together to force the druid murderer and then he went crazy. Priest Benactus and Faltheriel lost control of him in the end. Damn cultists." The guard captain swore, but looked relieved.

"What's next?" Alessandre heard the female guard asking as he sneaked out of the house. Dead bodies, blood, ruined furniture and claw marks were everywhere.

"Check the canals… both letters say the druid was felt so guilty that after killing his captors, he was going to drown himself. Hopefully, that will be the end of this case, and the people of Stormwind will know justice at last."

Alessandre crept through the open door, shifted into his catform while stealthed and raced headlong through Cutthroat Alley. They were going to find something in the canal alright… just enough of a bear corpse to look like something it wasn't. It wasn't the cleverest idea he'd ever had, but he relied on the nasty canal water to help obscure the rest and make it believable. Only time would tell if it was. So far, though, the Stormwind Guard seemed convinced. Alessandre tried to put those thoughts away for now. This was the last day of the month. It was time to get home to Opalbane and start his new life as an honest rogue—well as honest as a rogue can get, anyways.

Alessandre did not look back when he left Cutthroat Alley for the last time. He didn't even think to say goodbye to his old hunting ground. It just wasn't that important to him anymore.


	32. When crazy people fall in love, Part I

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Thirty-Two: When crazy people fall in love, part I…**

When crazy people fall in love, they have two choices. They can either completely destroy each other with their problems, or work together in some kind of freakish symbiotic relationship.

Opalbane was about to learn this firsthand.

She stood on the worn path to Alessandre's home in the small clearing. All around her, thick violet boughs of treetops at the crown of the mountain swayed gently in the breeze. Opalbane was very familiar with Ashenvale and thought she could never be surprised by its beauty. But the air at the top of the mountain was so fresh, and the sky a perfect clear blue. She'd hiked around the area and knew that the ruins of a large tree house were at the end of an overgrown road to the north. Opalbane had no way to be completely sure until Alessandre returned, but some old scrawlings and other markings in the still living tree bark of the ancient house seemed to imply that an old Kaldorei family lived there. Opalbane fantasized that it was Alessandre's old family house. The idea that he might have asked her to go and live in his old home made Opalbane feel more welcome than she'd ever felt in her life. Eventhough Alessandre was not with her, she was growing to love him more and more.

"I guess he's not coming today, either." Opalbane admitted to herself at last. Still, she waited a few moments longer. Opalbane hoped that saying it out loud would make abandoning the road easier. It didn't.

Alessandre had been gone for two and a half months. It only took two weeks to get to the Eastern Kingdoms by boat, and hardly more than a day by griffon to reach Stormwind. Then, it took another two weeks to travel back. Opalbane supposed that Alessandre would finish by the end of the month. He seemed intent on getting his mission done on time for Shadowstep. Opalbane didn't doubt why, she wouldn't dare give Shadowstep any more reason to hate her if she was in Alessandre's position. His desperation had seemed a little unwarranted though. Wisthera had broken a contract to turn Opalbane over to Shadowstep hadn't she? Her life had not ended… Shadowstep might be cruel but he wasn't a villain who was going to ruin Alessandre's life if he didn't comply. But, two and a half months had passed, and Opalbane was getting worried. In fact, she was terrified. She'd resisted the urge to ride down the mountain and speak with her brother many times. Alessandre's instructions had been clear: go to my cottage and don't leave for any reason, unless there's trouble that threatens your life. If that's the case, take Starshatter and try to get to Darnassus.

Opalbane fiddled with her long braid and then hesitantly turned around. She stifled a cry and went inside to make dinner.

There was an enormous cellar below the house filled with dried beans, meat, and grain for bread. Opalbane wondered how Alessandre had it so well stocked. He had to have been away from this place for more than a month when he asked her to go at the last minute. He must steal away to hideout frequently, Opalbane realized… but come with a year's worth of supplies every time? That part made no sense. Truly, Alessandre lived like an outlaw or something.

There were only three rooms in the house: a tiny bedroom, a kitchen, and a common room. A small wooden table and two chairs were the only furniture. The kitchen was a bit dingy, which Opalbane expected from a bachelor, but the bedroom was painted a sunny yellow, there was a charming dresser made of wood that was a butter color and the bed had a plush comforter and soft sheets and pillows that felt like silk. Opalbane was annoyed at first, because it implied certain things about Alessandre's lifestyle, namely that he often brought women up there. But then, there was something very satisfying about being able to make love to Alessandre as the most important woman in his life on that bed. Opalbane lay awake, at night, smiling at all the warm fantasies Alessandre had given her. She certainly had some of her own, and she was beginning to see them take place before her eyes in the beautiful sunlight bedroom that was now hers too.

Starshatter wasn't always around. Clearly, he was very familiar with the woods at the mountain top… which also revealed that Alessandre was an excellent cook. Starshatter kept killing deer and leaving them on the doorstep. Opalbane had no clue how to clean a deer carcass or prepare it for dinner.

Opalbane set the table, complete with candles and her version of what food was. She sat before her plate and Alessandre's, frowning. She was beginning to wonder if she was going crazy, being married to an invisible man and living in a shack in the woods with just a cat.

A loud roar interrupted Opalbane's meal. Opalbane ran into the bedroom and got her dagger. Alessandre had told her that was Starshatter's signal for when there was trouble. This sound was more panicked and insistent than what she'd gleaned from Alessandre's mind though. Opalbane considered running into the trees… or were they in the trees? She allowed her shadowform to flare up, and tried to push her fear for Alessandre out of her mind. He hadn't come back because there was danger… it should have been obvious to her by now. Opalbane cursed herself for not wanting to believe the obvious.

As the rose evening sky turned to night, Opalbane came outside and shadowmelded. She boldly conjured up her memories from Silithus and decided that if she could not run or get to Starshatter, she would fight. She'd whistled for the cat but he'd fallen silent some time ago. Perhaps he couldn't answer.

Two riders came up the path at the edge of the woods. Opalbane tried but could not make them out. One of the nightsaber mounts was overburdened with strange weight. It almost looked like a dead body…

"Alessandre!" Opalbane cried out and ran to the riders. "Oh, my husband! Is he alright?" Opalbane froze when she saw what was coming to her out of the night.

Alessandre looked up from where he was leading a dark striped nightsaber. Long parcels were loaded on either side of the cat's saddle. Starshatter walked beside the other cat, purring loudly and rubbing his head against it in a feline embrace. The other mount was a girl.

"Al!" Opalbane began to cry and ran to embrace her husband. She hugged him tight and he held her back. She began to ask him about his mission and ask if he was alright, but Alessandre wouldn't say anything for a long time. She tried to lead him into the house for dinner, but he wouldn't let her go.

"Alessandre… is something wrong?"

Alessandre swallowed, and smoothed back Opalbane's hair. "We need to talk." He said. Then, he began to unload the packages from the other cat. He started to shuttle them to the cellar.

"Would you like help?" she asked. Alessandre waved her off. She waited uncomfortably for him to finish. Starshatter seemed grateful when Alessandre finally got the reigns and saddle off the other nightsaber. They chased eachother playfully through the yard around the house and then darted off into the woods.

"Starshatter has a girlfriend?" she slipped her hand into Alessandre's and followed him into the house.

"It might be awhile, and he likes Arwena." He shrugged.

Alessandre sat down at the dinner table. "Arwena? Whose mount is that?"

Alessandre gave Opalbane a look. "Why do you even ask me if you can read my mind?" he griped.

Opalbane's heart sank. Something was very wrong. "Alright then… you have many mounts. Arwena is just one of them… I have no idea why you feel you need so many different ones, but—"

"Is this dinner?" Alessandre turned his nose up at Opalbane's cooking.

Opalbane tried to laugh it off, though his words stung. "I've done a lot of interesting things in my life, but learning to cook was not one of them. But, I suspect you might know a thing or two. That kitchen is filthy, but at least it's well stocked."

"I'll make us something." Alessandre announced, largely ignoring his wife. He took both their plates and set them outside for the cats to have.

Opalbane felt a pang of sadness which broiled over into anger when Alessandre, the love of her life and brand new husband, shut her out. She would have pressed further but something was clearly wrong. She was going to let Alessandre to tell her when he was ready.

Two more hours later, venison spiced with herbs and fresh rice was ready and on the table. They started eating and Alessandre began to talk.

"I killed Benactus." He said abruptly. Opalbane cleared her throat.

"Oh… I see." She said in a small voice.

"Can you live with that?" Alessandre pressed her. He sounded a bit rude.

Opalbane leaned back in her chair. It creaked softly. "You told me that you would… I understand why it had to be done."

"I gave him a choice, you know." Alessandre went on in his tone that seemed to accuse her. "He didn't want to live. He just wanted to take you with him to Silithus, no matter what."

Opalbane played with her long white braid. "I understand. I would have… done the same." Then, she reached out across the table and touched Alessandre's hand. "I forgive you for that. I understand about your mission and all. Our life together is more important to me though. If that is what it took, I thank you."

Alessandre moved his hand away from hers and kept eating. Opalbane tried to do the same.

"Faltheriel is dead now too, along with about fifty Twilight Cultists in Stormwind. Every last one is dead, for you."

Opalbane bristled. "Why do you sound like you're mad at me? I didn't do anything wrong, you know."

Alessandre stopped eating. "I'm sorry."

Opalbane frowned. "No, I am. I truly am sorry… I forget that I'm married to an assassin. I never considered that killing people for a living could be so depressing. And, now I feel like an idiot saying that. I guess, I just imagined me running to you along that path when you came home, and that we would forget everything and make love..." Opalbane blushed. "Maybe I'm being insensitive, but those fantasies you gave me… it was all I could think about for two whole months!" She giggled.

"I'm a murderer."

Opalbane stopped laughing. "You're what—"

"I never stopped being a druid. I was the reason for the riot. The people of Stormwind finally got sick of it and came after me, only I got away. I took you to Darnassus because you needed to be safe, but also because I needed to get out of there… the riot's over now, but I'm the murderer. I covered my tracks pretty well. I know they believed the letters I forged, I saw for myself… the two men I blamed the whole thing on are dead, and they can't talk."

Opalbane just stared at her husband.

Alessandre looked up at the ceiling, then he looked away. "The reason it took me so long to get back… because I was finished more than a month ago and sent Shadowstep my mission report then… I almost left you."

Opalbane blinked.

"Just like you said at our Wreathe Day… every time I get scared and need to tell you something, I run away and do something stupid. Well, I wanted to run away, start over and be someone else. I even had a new name picked out." Alessandre paused and scratched his goatee. "But what stopped me was, I always come back here before I start over. I lay low, and think about what needs to be done. When, I'm ready, I come down from this mountain as a new man. Then, I pick a different mount from the stables and—"

"But _I'm_ here."

Alessandre nodded. "And… this time I didn't want to come home just to run away. I wanted to come home to you. I had to tell you… even if you hated me… you deserved to know the truth about me, that I am a murderer."

Opalbane got angry. "Why are you telling me this, you idiot?"

Alessandre hung his head. "You have to hear it. I'm sorry. I'll go if you want."

"Go? Where? To whom? To some other woman's bed? To the next Wisthera, or Myrielle? That's not fair. That's so… selfish and _evil_. Opalbane pushed her dinner away. "Who the hell do you think you are? I thought you were smarter than this, Alessandre."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"No you're not. You're relieved, right? You're glad that you got it off your chest. Now Opalbane, the endless font of forgiveness has to go along with this, right? We have to bare our souls now. My husband is a murderer and now we have to deal with it."

Alessandre looked at Opalbane curiously. She wasn't just talking about him.

"Why? What have you done that's so terrible?"

Opalbane clawed her hands and hid her face in them. She looked like she was about to cry, then she didn't. She looked at Alessandre and disgust was clear on her face.

"I know… I always knew that you were a druid, and the one killing people in Stormwind."

Alessandre was shocked.

"Don't look so surprised. I'm a priestess, remember? And, do you really think that I was going to get involved with someone like you if I didn't know exactly what was going on?"

That hurt. Alessandre said as much.

"Do you really expect anything less from me? As far as I knew, you were a man-whore, a liar, and a killer by profession… think about how much you care for me. Would you really want me to marry someone like that?"

Alessandre leaned back in his chair. He wouldn't look at his wife. "I looked into your mind, without your permission to protect myself." Opalbane continued, "And do you know what I saw? A man with a good heart, but a nasty addiction. I saw someone so like myself that it was scary. And that I could despise myself so much but love you… that was even more terrifying."

Alessandre folded his arms across his chest. Opalbane went on. "Al… how many times have I told you that I already knew all that I needed to know about you, but that I loved you regardless. Didn't you think that I meant it?"

Alessandre took a deep breath and turned back to her. "I didn't really believe you."

Opalbane gave a sad smile. "Well, I did mean it, and I do still love you. I understand why you didn't want to tell me. I _am_ grateful that you decided to be honest though. I guess I just wasn't ready for us to be so honest yet."

"We did get married pretty fast. I'm realizing that there's still so much I don't know about you." Alessandre seemed to calm.

Opalbane shook her head. "We're not finished with this yet. I can't let you share something with me, and not tell you about myself. You don't have the benefit of reading my mind and having hours alone in a quiet room to decide whether or not you're okay with it. But… I see where I went wrong. I want to offer you the same."

"Opal, we don't need to—"

"The reason why I didn't want to tell you that I knew you were a murderer is because I didn't want to have to explain why… why I was okay with it."

Alessandre sat up.

"I'm… a murderer too. I know you… you love me because you think I'm innocent, and different from Arianna. Well, in a way, we aren't so different. I gave into my dark desires in Silithus. I tortured innocent people, killed them on a whim. And before that, Onyxbane can tell you how cruel I was to him and our little friends growing up, and even as a young woman… I didn't mind Wisthera conning me all those years because I was doing far worse to other people. What she did to me was child's play. When I got to Silithus, I felt liberated. I could really indulge, I could destroy people's lives."

"Opalbane that's different—"

"It is not!" Opalbane flared and stood up. "I _killed_ people. I killed women and children, and soldiers alike. Sometimes the others and I walked for miles to civilization, to find new victims when they didn't come to us fast enough. Why do you think that I almost killed you the first time we made love? I get a sick thrill out of it. A part of me really wanted to kill you, to give into that ecstasy of having complete control over whether someone lives or dies. In fact, when I found out what you were doing in Cutthroat Alley, I was a bit jealous. I wished that I could tell you who I really was and then go join you… Goddess! I'm a mess."

Opalbane sat back down and folded her arms on the table. Then, she buried her face.

"But every day, I'm getting better and better at resisting the urges. It's a true task, but I know I can do it. You did it, didn't you? When we were in Stormwind, you found the strength to stop. And Shadowstep is going to get you some help too. Maybe I can get some—"

"You know about my trial? You know everything?" Alessandre was outraged.

Opalbane whimpered a yes from under her folded arms. It was muffled.

"While in Silithus, I learned to listen to everything, with my mind as well as my ears, or get stabbed in the back by one of my rivals." She explained. "I know you treasure your privacy, but old habits are hard to break."

"They sure are." Alessandre wasn't being compassionate, however. He was angry. "Like, falling in love with the same despicable woman that I met one thousand years ago. I can't believe I did this, _again_!"

Opalbane looked up. "We may be similar, but I am not Arianna." Opalbane defended herself.

"Yes you are! In fact, you're much worse. How could I—"

"What?" Opalbane dared him.

Alessandre kept his mouth shut.

"Come on and say it. 'How could you marry me?' Is that what you were about to say? So is that what you really think of me, now that you know who I really am?"

More silence.

"I'm going to bed." Alessandre pushed away from the table.

"What, so my husband comes back from saving my life, and the conquering hero doesn't even want sex? Are you rejecting me, you furry hypocrite?"

Alessandre slammed the bedroom door shut behind him.

Opalbane walked out the front door. She stood alone, seething in the night for a few moments, then she forced herself to come back into the house.

"You're only the most beautiful person in my life!" she shouted at Alessandre's shut door. "I only worship the ground that you walk on, literally, because I can't ever stop being a cultist. But it was the best thing I could do for myself, marrying you… or didn't Benactus explain that to you? I read your mind, Alessandre, I know that he did." Then, she hesitated before finally saying, "Because I love you," her voice broke, "I want to tell you that I'm going for a walk. I'm angry, and I need to cool off before I kill something." Opalbane cringed at her choice of words while she waited. From behind the closed bedroom door, Alessandre didn't say anything.

"Fine, I can live in this world by myself. I don't need you, I don't need anyone at all." Opalbane had a shocking moment of déjà vu then. Those were the same words she'd said to her brother almost five months ago, when she ran off to Silithus. Opalbane tried to tell herself that this time was different. She had a husband who loved her, right? Wasn't that all that mattered? But there was no guarantee that Alessandre still cared for her. They'd fallen in love too fast, and he didn't truly know the real her. He could change his mind and leave if he really hated her, Darnassian law or not. The shadowpriestess kept up her fast angry pace until she reached the deep woods where she had to pick the path more carefully. Opalbane came to the edge of a cliff surrounded on all sides by silent night sky. She looked over the edge of the mountain. The soft lantern glow of Astranaar was barely distinguishable. Opalbane blinked through her angry haze. Suddenly the world below seemed incredibly inviting. Why not throw herself off the edge, and put an end to all the suffering at last?

Opalbane took off her clothes. She stood alone and naked, the way she'd come into this world. Then, she brought her arms around and up above her head. She flattened her palms and made a spearhead of her fingers where her hands pressed together. She looked like a diver, ready to take that amazing leap into glory.

Opalbane meant to leap off the edge, but then she slipped on the hard rock and fell. She cried as her bare leg scraped painfully on the stone. Then she disappeared over the edge, screaming. The night swallowed her up.

Alone in the bedroom, Alessandre stared out of the window of the cottage he'd made near his old family home with his bare hands. It took him years to get it right. But finally, the building came together nicely. The foundation was finally even enough, and the roof didn't leak. The house needed constant maintenance, but it was well worth the effort. A large lonely white moon looked down on him from the window. All that white served to cool his anger. The guttural mews of nightsabers mating somewhere in the wilderness reached his ears. Alessandre could not help laughing. It was definitely Starshatter and Arwina.

The house, the cats, the moon… his mistake was starting to become obvious. Marriage was work, as well as love. "Alright," he sighed. "Elune, I can take a hint."

Alessandre wandered in the woods just outside his house, but could not find Opalbane. He shifted in his catform to track her. She could not have wandered far. But then, he saw her clothes tangled up in a scraggly bush just above a terrible drop off. Blood spattered the rock below.

Alessandre's eyes went wide. "Dear goddess!"

Without thinking, Alessandre stealthed and jumped off the ledge after his wife.

Author's note:

The next episode is the last one! Thanks again for reading. More information about the next story in the series is forthcoming.


	33. When crazy people fall in love, Part II

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**Episode Thirty-Three: When crazy people fall in love, part II…**

Finally, when crazy people fall in love they are faced with this painful reality: no matter how they get along, they most definitely cause everyone else around them to suffer.

Alessandre was about to have a crash course in loving a crazy woman.

Alessandre fell more slowly in his feral form, but greater heights could still kill him. Halfway down, he invoked a secret method he'd learned hundreds of years ago, with the Cenarion Enclave. While in cat form, he cast the spell. He wasn't sure how his fel mana worked so he hoped it would come out the way he intended. He watched his furry purple paws as glowing green energy consumed him. The rush was unbelievable and suddenly he found himself falling faster than before. He twisted and turned and sparked with the green energy and hurtled toward the earth so fast he couldn't breathe to cry out. Then, all of a sudden nothing but the earth was before him. The night sky had burned away in an instant at the periphery of his vision.

Alessandre exploded to the earth, and the impact of green light and the electric fire of a force like lightning burned him alive. When the alarming green departed from before his eyes, he lay flat on the earth at the base of the mountain. From where he was, he could see just how far he'd fallen. He'd leapt off the edge of the mountain itself in search of Opalbane.

"Well, I'm glad that worked." It wasn't every day that a druid turned himself into a bolt of nature energy to keep his flesh from being harmed. Being of the earth, the magic of nature could not be harmed by the ground, only return safely to its mother again.

Alessandre searched around for any sign of Opalbane. He panicked. There had been a good amount of blood at the drop off. The more he searched though, the more it became clear to him that she was alive… if her body wasn't lying on the ground where he'd landed then it meant she was walking around.

Naked.

Alessandre used his purple nightsaber form to track his wife again. He should not have been surprised to find her just outside of Astranaar. A nasty purple bruise consumed her calf muscle, but being a priest, Opalbane had healed it completely. Alessandre wished he'd considered that before he leapt off the mountain and nearly killed himself to help his wife.

"Moonlily! What are you doing?" he came and wrapped his arms around her, to hide her nakedness. Opalbane pushed out of his arms.

She was standing right on the road before the little bridge that surrounded the lake on which the small town sat.

"Oh, so you're nice to me now that I haven't got any clothes on? Did the 'call of the wild' get you to unslam your door and come looking for me at last?" she mocked him.

Alessandre frowned. "You didn't answer my question."

"You are about to see how I cheer up when I'm really sad, like I am now. You can either watch in the dark by yourself like a pervert or join me like a real man; it's your choice."

"Why are you insulting my manhood?"

Opalbane shrugged. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. It's something Wisthera told me to say in one of her letters if I ever wanted you to do something."

Alessandre smiled.

"You're not going to hurt anyone, are you?" he worried.

Opalbane turned on him. "Is that what you think of me? Oh, so you're addicted to ganking people, but because an Archdruid tortured you, you still get to be a good guy? She balled her hands into angry fists at her sides. "I watch my parents being brutally murdered by demons in Felwood as a girl, and suddenly it's all my fault if I want to become a shadowpriestess, or cultist, or alcoholic, or convict to allay that hurt?"

Alessandre didn't know what to say.

"A few months ago, I warned you not to worry whether or not you were good enough for me. I take that back."

Alessandre began to object, but Opalbane shook her head and went on. "After what you said to me a little while ago, you have to prove to me that you're good enough. I know that I am a good person. I was tempted in Stormwind, but I didn't kill anybody. And, in Silithus, when my brother came to get me, I had an opportunity to kill him and get away from my family forever, to indulge in my despicable lifestyle, but I didn't. I chose to love him. I chose to come back to the world I hated to live in. Finally, when I met you and saw so much of my terrible self in you, I could have shunned you, but instead, I showed you compassion. I can't force you to do the same for me, just like I couldn't force you to love me, or make love to me. But, I can hope that you will forgive me my faults in time. That is the best I can do."

Alessandre swayed on his feet. His wife had said so much, so fast. She was sounding like the old commanding priestess again. The woman he'd fallen in love with was still in there, somewhere.

"Well, are you just going to stand there?"

Alessandre came back to himself. "No… I mean… I want to trust you. I want to be a good husband to you. How do I do that?" he shrugged.

Opalbane smiled evilly. "Strip." She commanded him.

Alessandre hastily did as he was told.

"Gooood." Opalbane said, looking him over. "So you trust me? You're going to do whatever I say, to help me feel better? You don't think that I'm some kind of monster leading you to your doom?"

Alessandre softened. "I'm not sure why I thought that about you, Moonlily. In fact, I am having a hard time thinking about anything right now." He reached out and took her hand. "You know, we can just go back to my place and—"

"Silence!" Opalbane raised her hand. "I bubbled myself on the way down here, by the way, in case you were wondering. Going down a mountainside is much easier that way." She came out of her play-acting for a moment, then went right back. "Now that you have my hand, we need to get on the road…" they did. "Now, promise me that you're not going to abandon me? You have to promise that you're not going to just leave me by myself. You're not a chicken, are you?"

Alessandre laughed. "No. And Wisthera is right about the manhood thing, yet again."

Opalbane looked at her husband sideways. "On your mark, get ready, get set… GO!" Then, she pulled him into a frenzied run. They went like children screaming and laughing over the bridge into Astranaar. People gawked at the naked couple, and Alessandre began to understand what Opalbane wanted him to do. They were just going to…

Then, she let go of his hand. Opalbane used Alessandre's momentum to slip her hand free when she stopped running, then she brought it around and spanked him on the butt. He pitched forward unexpectedly. Alessandre tried to stop too, but couldn't slow fast enough. He half-turned, in time to see his wife raise her fingers to her temples, and cast a spell…

The psychic scream filled his mind, and before he understood what was going on, the gorgeous naked rogue was running all through Astranaar, in and out of buildings, up stairs, into the lake and back. Finally, he came to the treehouse inn and crashed head first through a purple paned glass window.

Opalbane laughed as she watched him go. "That will teach you to judge me," she laughed evilly.

"Excuse me, Miss, but that is blatant destruction of property." A sentinel came and tapped Opalbane on the shoulder. The shadowpriestess ignored her and walked over to the rest of the sentinels on patrol. Then, she lifted her fingers to her temples, stared dead at them, and focused…

Five stalwart sentinels were sent running in all directions, the psychic scream filled their minds and made them crash into frightened young soldiers in Astranaar, hop into the lake, or run into each other.

Opalbane fell to her knees, cackling like a madwoman, and then abruptly hopped back up again.

"What are you staring at?" She was deathly serious. A young male Night Elf, perhaps in his fifteenth season stared baldly at the beautiful naked priestess.

Opalbane set her shadowform ablaze and began to dance for him. A crowd began to gather. "Got a good look?" she teased the boy. He nodded eagerly. "Good, because it's going to be your last!" she snarled and sent every one running with another round of psychic screaming. Whenever a sentinel or some poor innocent person came across Opalbane and tried to stop her, she sent them running again. Some people Opalbane gave golden bubble shields to that protected them when they went crashing into trees, or Furblogs, or walls. Some she just let loose without shields. It was a cruel game that Opalbane enjoyed immensely.

_Meanwhile, in the Astranaar inn…_

Alessandre came to sitting in something that didn't feel too kosher. With a cringe, he pried his eye open and looked down. The gleeful face of Wisthera greeted him.

"Hello, there brother-in-law." She smiled devilishly.

Alessandre flushed all over. "Um… hi? Tell me, what am I sitting in?"

Wisthera smiled wider. "Cake." Alessandre took one look at the hungry woman and finally understood what all the fawning over him had been about, and why everyone, including Opalbane had been so tolerant. Wisthera's hormones were out of control. And right about now, her naked brother-in-law sitting in her favorite food was a dangerous mix. "Mmm… cake…" Wisthera said again.

Alessandre tried to get up from the table. "Where do you think you're going? I can just lick it off. And I'm pretty good at licking—"

"Alessandre!" Onyxbane marched up then. He looked hysterical. "I don't see you for two whole months and then the next time we meet, you are sitting naked in my wife's food? What the hell is your problem, buddy?"

"Onyx, this isn't what it looks like—"

"The hell it isn't!" he picked Alessandre up just under his arm, the way he did when Alessandre was kissing his sister audaciously at their wedding. "And you!" Onyxbane turned on Wisthera. "I go to pay the check, and you're all over him. How am I supposed to feel?"

Wisthera reached over to get a handful of cake and white vanilla icing off of Alessandre's perfect backside, and Onyxbane slapped her hand away. "Oh, we are arguing tonight!" he warned her. Wisthera licked the cake off her fingers. Both men paused as they watched her do it. Apparently, she really hadn't been joking about being good at licking people.

Onyxbane spied Alessandre gazing at his girlfriend. He pushed him hard, and Alessandre snapped out of it too late. "Alright, that's it. We need to settle this once and for all." He threatened.

"Hey, I don't want any trouble, Onyxbane. We're family now, remember? I'm just here with your sister—"

"What sister? I don't see any sister. I just see cake…and a nice ass." Wisthera gave Alessandre an eyeful. Onyxbane heated instantly and ushered Alessandre outside of the tavern.

"Duel me!" he demanded when they got outside.

"I don't really want to—"

"I'll even make it fair." Onyxbane ripped off his shirt then. Not too many men can rip off their shirts and make it look believable, but Onyxbane could. He tossed the ruined formal white shirt aside and flexed. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Wisthera was watching. She'd come outside the inn and was smiling.

"What are they doing? Eww, what is that on his backside?" a female Night Elf asked Wisthera.

"Mmm… it's cake. The big one is mine, and the other one is… well he was almost mine. They are going to duel."

"Who are you rooting for?" Another woman came around. A crowd started to gather around the two nearly naked men. Well, Alessandre was completely naked. Onyxbane had enough sense not to go too far.

Wisthera's brow knight together in frustration, then it eased. She giggled. "This is delightful! I don't know which one I want. Guess I'll have to ogle both of them." Then she purred.

Alessandre and Onyxbane squared off. Alessandre was complaining that he didn't have any weapons or armor, but Onyxbane assured the rogue he didn't have any either.

"Man to man, mano a mano… no weapons, no armor. And, I promise not to hit you in the jewels."

"No, your sister would kill you if you did." Alessandre frowned.

"I'm not afraid of my sister." Onyxbane squeaked at the end. "Hey, Alessandre, you ever seen one of these?" he brandished his fist in the air.

"By Elune! You can't keep making that joke. That's your damn hand you're showing me." Alessandre scowled.

Finally, the duel started. Alessandre was so distracted being naked in public that he forgot to stealth. Onyxbane got low and rushed him. The charge knocked Alessandre off his feet, knocked the wind right out of him. Onyxbane walked around, pumping his arms for the crowd. Wisthera blew him a kiss.

Onyxbane turned around to see Alessandre's foot flying into his face. It slammed into him, hard, but the warrior wouldn't go down. Alessandre righted himself quickly and began to land blow after blow. The rogue was limber and quick, but the bulky and shorter Onyxbane parried, dodged, or blocked most of his blows.

"How are you doing that?" Alessandre demanded. "You don't even have a shield."

"Me? Use a shield? I'm not specced that way, my friend. Evenso, I'm used to taking a beating, and I'm sure I'm more skilled with my bare hands than you are."

Alessandre kept pounding on Onyxbane, who stayed put and didn't even try to land a punch. Alessandre was so fast, Onyxbane figured that if he moved the wrong way at the wrong moment, the rogue would probably find that opening immediately and take full advantage of the weakness.

"You're not wearing plate! How can you be taking so much damage?" Alessandre became flustered.

Onyxbane chuckled heartily. "I'm strong. Plate is just a shell, I'm still a tank without it."

Alessandre panicked then. He was going to lose this fight. And his good lecherous name was going to go down with it. All around, ladies were cheering for Onyxbane and booing him the rogue.

He had to think fast…

Alessandre jumped back to vanish into stealth, but Onyxbane had been waiting for exactly that opening. He lunged forward, sure and fast, and punched Alessandre clear in the face.

Alessandre fell over on his back. He couldn't get up. The duel was over.

Wisthera came over screaming. "You won! Oh, I love you Onyx." She jumped up and kissed her boyfriend. Clearly, she had been pregnant enough to waddle around at Opalbane's wedding for Feathershine and Willypearl, but when she didn't need to show off, she could gallop around like the best of us. "He's mine!" Wisthera flared and instinctively whipped a hand round to catch a female Night Elf who wandered in too close.

Alessandre got up slowly. Now he wasn't just covered in cake, he was covered in dirt too.

"Oh, this is gross." He watched the women crowded around Onyxbane and Wisthera, and felt humbled for the first time in his life. Actually, it felt pretty good. He was even happy that Onyxbane was able to seize Wisthera's affection back. He hated being in the middle of… whatever it was that was making Onyxbane insecure. With a pang, Alessandre remembered the nasty trick he played on Wisthera and Onyxbane during Winter's Veil. Their relationship nearly fell apart because of what he did with that pair of Willy's Secret underwear.

Karma strikes again.

The gracious feeling wore off quickly, though. Somewhere in the back of his head, Alessandre's ego nagged that he _should_ consider becoming an underwear model after this defeat. He wondered if he could convince Opalbane to let him talk to Willypearl about it…

"Alessandre!" Opalbane yelled. Alessandre turned to the voice.

His beautiful wife was running towards him, her black shadowform at full force. Alessandre was lost in the look of her sensual body bouncing and stretching with each stride before he noticed that about ten angry Sentinels and most of the townsfolk were chasing after her. Alessandre sprinted to meet her.

They found each other, laughing like crazy in the middle of Astranaar. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"No." Opalbane panted.

"No? We're going to get into big trouble, Opalbane!"

Opalbane buckled with laughter. Then she hugged her husband. Alessandre finally remembered why he'd come home. The body of his sweaty wife felt good against him… why had they ever quarreled when the two of them together was so simple, so easy?

"We're legitimate now, remember? We don't run from the law anymore. You and I are going to spend the night in jail and accept the slap on the wrist for the trouble we caused tonight."

Alessandre was alarmed at first, but then he calmed down. It was more than fair… and really funny when he thought about it.

"I love you," he leaned in to kiss his wife who was now making rude gestures at the approaching throng. It was hard to look at that stampede of angry people and not run, but Alessandre didn't.

"Eat cake!" he said and bent over to moon them all.

_Later that night in the jail (yes there is a jail, how could there not be?) underneath the inn in Astranaar…_

Of course, the Sentinels had given Opalbane and Alessandre water to bathe. And, they gave them some clothes from the donations box. Finally, the wise sentinels gave them separate cells to finish off the event. They told the 'brash young couple' to 'cool off' and then they would 'see them in the morning.'

Both Alessandre and Opalbane rolled their eyes then, and made out eagerly before the annoyed officers pulled them apart and forced them into their separate jail cells.

Opalbane immediately took her clothes back off when she was locked in her cell. She flirted with Alessandre the entire time, before the lone sentinel guarding them couldn't take it any more and left them alone—the only two people in the tiny jail—for the night. Opalbane helped by powerfully suggesting with her mind that they were already locked up and couldn't do anyone else any harm. Alessandre helped by looking pitiful and telling the Sentinel that he'd just come home from a long adventure and was dying for some alone time with his wife, which was partly true. Of course, he never explained that he was hoping to get some action from his wife. The Sentinel did not need to know that he could get through the bars in his catform.

When the heavy door to the outside closed on them. Opalbane stopped teasing her husband. She made a pillow of the novice's robe they gave her and relaxed. Fascinated, she watched Alessandre turn himself into a sleek purple nightsaber and then effortlessly squeeze his head and shoulders imbetween the bars of his cell. The rest of him came easily.

"Oh, how beautiful you are."

Alessandre shrugged. "You've seen druids before." He said in his catform. He came through the bars to her cell and rubbed himself up against her bare legs. Then he crawled into her lap, lay on his back and batted at her long white braid with his paw.

Opalbane smiled. She patted his head gently. "Perhaps, but you are the most beautiful one I've ever seen. And such a rich purple coat… I'm starting to get jealous."

Alessandre purred low and deep. "I needed to hear that. I lost a duel with your brother, you know." He said in his kitty voice that was mostly a growl.

Opalbane giggled. "So that is why you have a black eye. I didn't realize my brother was in town. You know, I do recall him saying that he was going to give you one. You don't look so bad with it in my opinion." Then, Opalbane slipped into Alessandre's mind and recalled the whole incident for herself. She couldn't stop laughing.

Alessandre crawled out of Opalbane's lap and changed back. He rubbed his Night Elf face against hers, and abruptly licked the entire right side of it with his tongue.

Opalbane calmed down at that. "Eww."

"I've been wanting to do that to you for a very long time." Alessandre smiled. Opalbane hugged him.

They made love. There was no romantic moonlight, or warm breeze. No magical confession that one person needed to make, no cultists waiting at their doorstep. Shadowstep did not need to be satisfied, nor Myrielle shown up at last. There was no point to prove to lovers long dead and gone, or wrongdoings to make up to people that they'd hurt in their long or tumultuous lives. Both of them had suffered enough, and were more than willing to make up for everything, with time. What Opalbane and Alessandre had was each other, and that was all they needed. The romance came from the fight they'd won to be together. The floor was gray and dull, but the compassion they had for each other's flaws cushioned them. It was cold, but the natural heat between them made up for that as well. In that way, that it needed to happen and so did—without any hesitation or stipulations—the love they made was perfect. When it was done, Opalbane rolled over on her side to face her lover and kissed him gently.

"So, I'm a romancer now. That's probably what Willypearl will start telling her customers." Opalbane observed. "Then she'll want to make some kind of night gown in my honor."

Alessandre stroked his hand down the length of Opalbane's leg. He used his fingertips to tickle her hips.

"Why? Because you lied and cheated and… what ever else to get your hands on me? Is that what that scribe meant when he titled your brother's journal _The Romancer Onyxbane_?"

Opalbane shrugged. "No, I think he just meant that Onyxbane was surprising lucky when it came to love. My brother certainly was not debonair or sly like you. You could have been a romancer too, you know."

Alessandre folded an arm under his head and rested. "Well what's stopping me from being one? I fell assed-backwards into your life. I can't believe that I'm actually married now, and it isn't some… scam of Wisthera's, or because Shadowstep made me. Oh, wait, it's both." He laughed.

Opalbane smiled. "The other part about being a romancer, I think, is taking control of the situation. This was my idea from the start. If I didn't work up the courage to go after you, none of this would have ever happened. It was my journey to make."

Alessandre was quiet for a while, then he drew Opalbane into a hug. "I swore that I'd never tell you this, but I think it was a bad promise to keep… I was fairly shallow at the time, and had no idea that I'd have these kinds of feelings for you."

"You? Shallow? Never." Opalbane managed with a straight face.

Alessandre licked the other side of his wife's face and watched her recoil before going on with his story.

"The first night we spent together, the night that you Mind Controlled me and made me take off my clothes and tell you things… I wasn't really asleep. I was there for all of it."

Opalbane raised her eyebrows.

"And… I liked it. At first, I was so confused because of the rum. I thought I was just dreaming, but later I realized that you really did make me say that I love you, and that I would always be there for you, and that you make me whole."

"Say it again," Opalbane prodded gently.

Alessandre looked at his wife. "I love you, Opalbane. I will always be there for you. You make me whole." Alessandre smiled. "On that night," he continued, "I remember feeling very happy, because I was glad to say that to another person. I was a little upset afterwards that we weren't really saying those things to each other, but that was when I understood that I longed to have something special with you. Back then, those feelings were frightening and I didn't dare give into them. I didn't even know how to start something like that between us. Opalbane, thank you so much for making that dream come true for me."

Opalbane nestled into Alessandre's dark shoulder. He smelled sweaty and it was wonderful.

"You are a blessing from the goddess." She said to her husband.

"So are you." Alessandre replied.

They lay in silence for a while, basking in all that they'd achieved together.

"Um… so what happens now?" Alessandre broke the silence. "I kind of have a criminal record and so do you. This isn't going to land us in another trial with Feathershine is it?"

"Pfft! Slap on the wrist, tops. I'll bet gold that Onyxbane caves in and bails us out tomorrow morning. I pretty much have my little brother trained to rescue me when I need it, since before Silithus even."

Alessandre was speculative. "Will he really? Even after how we fought?"

"He did the last couple times I painted the town red like this. He understands that sometimes I just fly off the handle. However, I think this is my last strike in Astranaar, so we'll have to pick a different town next time." Opalbane explained.

So, there was going to be a next time, and certainly more silly moments in the future. Alessandre was worried for a moment, but then smiled at the prospect. "I love being crazy with you, shadowpriestess."

"And I you, assassin." Opalbane paused, then said, "Al, is it alright if I find your being insane incredibly attractive? Every time I sneak into that tortured mind of yours, it makes me tingle all over… you're so many amazing men at the same time… it's very sexy. If you were a normal guy, I don't think I'd like you as much."

Alessandre yawned and kissed Opalbane's forehead. "You are perfect for me." Alessandre sounded relieved. He began to purr.

Then, they fell asleep.

-THE END-


	34. just for fun

**The Romancer Opalbane**

**A fun synopsis of the story so far:**

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a spoof of Mambo Number 5... for the Romancers

One, two, three, four, five  
Everybody in the ship, so come on  
Let's ride to Silithus around the corner  
Opalbane says she wants some rum and melonjuice  
But she really don't wanna

Greatfather Winter was here last week  
Everybody hide  
Cause his tricks are cheap  
Like Faltheriel, Benactus, Max and Bo  
And as the story goes on you know  
They are getting weaker  
So what can the Romancers do but beg to Elune  
For them flirting it's just like sport, roleplaying fly  
Cause they're good let me dump it  
Shadowstep, please set in the trumpet:

A little bit of Feathershine in my life  
A little bit of Wisthera by my side  
A little bit of Willy is all I need  
(Onyx is getting silly if you ask me)  
A little bit of Stormwind cathouse is always fun  
A little bit of Myrielle all night long  
A little bit of Opalbane here I am

And a little bit of homicide makes Al your man.

That was Mambo number five... for the Romancers.

Author's note:

As for this corny song, I couldn't help myself!

Saying goodbye to this story was really a trial. I absolutely fell in love with all of the characters by the end, even our odd little Faltheriel. I'm glad to see that people are having as much fun reading the story as I had writing it.

The next part of the series will be called The Romancer Shadowstep, the final part of the Alliance side of the story. We finally learn everything about the Twilight Cultists, the Old Gods, and exactly what the Burning Legion has to do with the Romancers! Shadowstep chooses a successor! The big family secret is revealed! A villain returns! We learn what the Horde has to do with this craziness! And, if that weren't enough, there will be three more weddings... don't get cocky now, it's not who you think at all!

Finally, I'm happy to announce that I enjoyed writing about Wisthera, Alessandre, and Myrielle so much that I decided to write a second series of stories for them called the Triumvirs. I can't start it until after I finish the entire Alliance and Horde sides of the Romancer series, but do look forward to it.

Happy Reading!


	35. Next in the series

Order of current and forthcoming stories in The Romancer Series:

The Romancer Onyxbane

The Romancer Greatfather Winter

The Romancer Opalbane

The Romancer Shadowstep


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